Color Bleeding
by Riley Malfoy
Summary: Draco Malfoy's institutionalized mother gives birth to a baby son and his father is just a little too pleased about it. Draco senses something is wrong...and by a chain of circumstances, realizes his only ally may be the one and only, Hermione Granger.
1. Photograph

A/N: Short opening chapter J Review, please. 

The photograph lays idly on the palm of her hand, mocking her. It seems to have a purpose, but she can't seem to read it. It has a presence of it's own, all the while seeming unimportant, almost impalpable. His eyes stare up at her, but she refuses to make a connection as she shoves the slightly-worn picture into the zippered compartment of her suitcase. She smoothes out her button-up, sighing. She's used to being plain, she always has been. Even with the trappings of puberty, in which people began to see her a 'good-looking' rather than awkward. The attention has always made her nervous. She glares up at the clock, nervously. The time is coming. She can feel a strange taste in her mouth. It isn't bad or good, it's just there. Imprinted on the back of her tongue and the rise of her pallet, like a memory. She pulls her hair back into a low ponytail and slips on her flats, ready to finally leave behind all she has known for so long.

She's not sure why she's so nervous. As she walks down the long, presumptuous hallway, she can feel the comforting hand of her best friend, Harry, on the small of her back, and the warm grin of Ron on her face. They are loyal companions. For seven years they had stood by her, and even after all her _mistakes_. She rolls her shoulders back as they approach the Great Hall and she smoothes her shirt once again. Harry tells her to relax, but she doesn't hear it, save for the thumping blood in her brain.

Everyone's in lines now. Lines. She likes lines, so easy. Organized. But this time, the organization doesn't calm her. She hears her name. At least, she thinks she does. As she looks out into the crowd, everything seems to fade together, color-bleeding into one, big, meaningless blob. She feels a warm hand squeeze hers. She isn't sure if it's Ron or Harry. She takes her walk, her shoes clicking on the stone floor. The room seems silent. Ethereal. As she looks out into the crowd from the podium, she feels a numbness within her chest. Her eyes make a connection. Electric. Warm and hot all at the same time. It gives her the inclination to soar and fall. But most of all, it persuades her to speak.

"As I look at all of you today, I come to the realization, that I, myself, have never been more incredible than any of you. Each of you is an intelligent person, full of potential and a budding promise. I don't say this to be clichéd, I say it with all honesty. In my past years at Hogwarts, especially this last one, I have seen something special in all of my peers. The superiority I thought I had over many of you stumbled. I was humbled in so many aspects. And in all your grace, you forgave me. You taught me something. Grades aren't life."

A few chuckles sounded from the students, breaking the silence she had created over the room. She cleared her throat.

"Honestly. I lived each day for a grade. I lived to exceed, to, God forbid, beat you all. Because I never had anything else to show for myself. I promise you, I have watched from afar. I have seen the glow of love, the pride of exceeding, even if exceeding means a 'sub-standard' grade to you. I have heard youthful laughter, and gosh, have I longed for it. Hold on to these precious "in-between" moments. Don't linger for long on your failures. Remember your emotional triumphs, and even your downfalls. That is what truly matters, guys. Thank you all for choosing me to speak at your graduation. I am not the one who deserves the glory. You are."

Hermione grinned and let the air from her lungs. It seemed like it had been captive there since Dumbledore has asked her to give the graduation speech. She hurried from the stage, ponytail fanning out behind her as she rushes into Ron's arms, and then Harry's. "Impressive, 'Mione." Harry said warmly into her ear. "Thanks."

It's then that her eyes connect again. She is overwhelmed. Her chest tightens and she feels her heart starting to race. "Hermione? Are you all right?" The voices begin to ask her, but she doesn't respond. She'd become so prone to panic attacks since…everything. She doesn't break her gaze as tears collect in her eyes and students begin to swarm around her. "Can't I just go back?" She wonders aloud. No one seems to hear her as her breathing speeds up. Everything is moving too fast. The world is spinning, fuzzy, color-bleeding like a badly taken photograph. Only one thing is clear. And then it goes black.


	2. She's Always Running

A/N Thank you guys for reviewing. I really appreciate your comments and criticism, they only make me a better writer! 

Disclaimer: I forgot to mention…I don't own Harry Potter. I'm only playing.

Hermione pulled her black pea coat tighter around her figure as the chilly air of King's Cross chilled her to the bone. She watched several first years giving thin-lipped smiles to their parents, not wanting to reveal that they were terrified to leave home for the first time. Hermione smiled. She remembered how petrified she'd been to go to Hogwarts. She felt a sense of nostalgia at the realization that this would be the last time she'd board the Hogwarts Express, last time she'd have to lug her heavy trunks onto the train and awkwardly search for Ron and Harry. She swallowed a lump rising in her throat and tugged her trunk behind her, ready to board the train. "Bye Mum. Bye Dad." She smiled back at her parents. Mrs. Granger waved uncomfortably to Hermione as she eyed a man with long, black hair and green robes holding a tiny frog in his palm. Her parents were well-meaning, of course, but she understood that they were still uneasy with the unfamiliar. Hermione struggled for a few seconds to load her trunks up onto the train until her father rushed forward, chuckling, to help shove them aboard. "Thanks." She gave him a quick kiss to the forehead and disappeared into the train.

Hermione searched several compartments until she peaked into one towards the back and found Ron and Harry gleefully eating Chocolate Frogs. "Ron! Harry!" She dashed forward to be greeted by two warm hugs. "

Mione', how are you? It's been a long summer, hasn't it?" Ron grinned widely at Hermione and she noticed with hesitation that he'd finally grown to suit his hair. Rather than looking clownish, it now looked quite handsome. And of course, he was taller. Ron never seemed to stop growing. "I'm great." Crookshanks was now whining incessantly from his carrier. "Don't let that thing out, Herm." She flashed a glare in his direction, twisting her lips into an annoyed frown, pulling Crookshanks into her arms and petting his head while he purred.

"Anyway," she shot one more look at Ron. "How are you, Harry? How have the Dursley's been? Not too awful, I hope."

"They're bad. At least they left to myself mostly, this summer"  
"Good." Hermione smiled, leaning her head against the window of the train, the sunlight warming her cheek. It was then that she felt herself floating away, out the window, into the bright sky. Ron and Harry were wrapped up in a Quidditch conversation. Ron and Harry had never left her out of a conversation. Usually when the three were together, especially at the beginning of the year, they shared crazy summer stories and antics. They'd fill themselves up on candy and laugh until they felt sick. But this time was different. Ron and Harry had seemed happy to see her, no doubt. But their interest seemed to dissipate there. They hadn't even asked about her trip to Spain. She had definitely mentioned it in her letters. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, lifting her head up.

"Spain was good." She blurted out, looking hopefully at Ron and Harry for some sort of answer.

"Good to hear." Ron's eyes, she noticed, were awkwardly big as he answered her. He looked at her, obviously confused, before turning his head back to Harry and continuing their conversation. "I'm going to go see what's going on with everyone else." She said it, but not really. Her voice was lowered, part in indignation the other in sadness. She'd never felt so distant from her best friends. Harry and Ron just nodded after her as she placed Crookshanks into his carrier (much to his dismay) and left the compartment.

Hermione wandered the hallways, not sure where she was headed, several times reprimanded by the snack-cart woman for walking on a moving vehicle. Hermione ended up finding an empty compartment in the middle of train. She cracked open the window and let thesun hit her cheeks harshly. Everything felt foreign. Nothing had changed with her, at least, she thought. She was still bookish, know-it-all Hermione, the girl who treasured education above all things. She tugged at the drooping hem of her white sock as she frowned. She just wanted everything to be the same. She hated change. Above all, she wanted to go back to Ron and Harry's compartment, pop a chocolate frog in her mouth, scold Ron for chewing with his mouth open, and tell them about the dragon she'd seen in Spain. But that wasn't going to happen now, was it? Hermione peeled off the warm coat, setting it on the seat beside her. She was dressed plainly, as usual. It was then that she heard a knock at the compartment. "Come in." Part of her hoped it was Ron or Harry, coming to apologize for the way they'd neglected her earlier. At first, when she saw the shock of red hair, she'd thought it was Ron and her heart had jumped. At least she was partially right. It _was _a Weasley. It was Ginny.

"Hey Hermione!" Ginny gripped, plopping down into the seat next to her. Hermione had always considered Ginny a friend, but as far as similarities go, the girls had none. Ginny was a spitfire. Years ago, she'd graduated from a shy, Harry Potter worshipping fourteen year old, and transformed into a firecracker. She wasn't afraid to wear makeup, or wear tight clothes that showed her off. Hermione secretly envied Ginny for her confidence.

"Hi, Ginny. How are you?"

"I'm spectacular!" Ginny stared at Hermione for a second, with wide blue eyes. "I've missed you. Why didn't you come visit?"

"You…never asked." Hermione shrugged. The truth was, Hermione had often thought of visiting the Weasley home. But she was much too afraid to be turned away.  
"You know you're always welcome." Ginny brushed a crimson strand of hair away from her face, smiling. "You look different."

"I do?" Hermione looked down at her plain black top and cream-colored pants

"Yes, you do. Older. Or something." Ginny cocked her head. "Sadder." Hermione felt shocked by Ginny's blatant statement. Although it was true.

"No. I don't. I'm perfectly happy, Ginny. Don't just assume things." She turned her head to focus on the scenery outside. Ginny, made uncomfortable by Hermione's brash words, attempted to change the subject.

"Head girl. You must be proud."

"I suppose so." Hermione turned back to Ginny, thankful for the subject change and continued on a conversation that was bland…but comforting, nonetheless.

Hermione was awoken by her head lazily thumping against the window of the train. She sat up, wincing, and pressed a few fingers to her forehead, feeling a nasty bump starting to form. Ginny was curled up across from her, head tucked into her arms. "Ginny," Hermione shook Ginny's sleeping form, "I think we're here." Ginny blinked several times, rubbing her eyes.

"It's cold." Ginny rubbed her bare arms, shivering.

"Here," Hermione handed Ginny her pea coat. "This is pretty warm." Ginny nodded and thanked Hermione, putting the jacket on. She looked ridiculous. Hermione was thin, but much curvier than Ginny, who was much more of a bean pole. Her curveless shape swam helplessly in the coat. Hermione scooted to the edge of the compartment and slid the door open. She could see students wandering out as she peered out. Hermione, followed by Ginny, got her trunks from Ron and Harry's compartment and exited the train.

Hermione and Ginny sat side by side in the Great Hall, watching the sorting go on. "Look at her shirt. I'm going with Hufflepuff."

"Can you really tell a house by their clothing, Ginny?" Hermione raised her eyebrows incredulously at Ginny.

"Hufflepuff!" The sorting hat shouted. Ginny turned to Hermione, a proud smirk on her face.

"Told you." Hermione tuned Ginny out as she scanned the Gryffindor table. Ron and Harry were sitting down the table with Neville and Seamus. Ron caught Hermione's eyes and waved. Hermione gave him a small wave and turned back to Ginny. "Harry's gotten quite cute, don't you think?" Hermione shook her head, waving her hands in front of her face in disgust.

"Ginny. Don't talk about Harry like that. He's like my brother!" Hermione glared at Ginny. It was obvious she'd been carrying a torch for Harry since her first year. "Why don't _you_ make a move on him if you think he's so attractive?" Ginny's face flushed, turning a bright red.

"N-no! I just said he's gotten cute. It's not like I _fancy_ him, Hermione." Hermione shrugged.

"Ok, Ginny." Suddenly Ginny squealed.

"Ooh! Look at him. He's improved, hasn't he?" Hermione eyes followed Ginny's finger to the Slytherin table. This couldn't be good.

"Who?"

"Malfoy!" Hermione didn't even bother to look.

"Malfoy?" Hermione's jaw dropped. "You hate him. He's…Malfoy!"

"He's an ass, Herm, I'll give you that. But he's a good-looking ass. That's fair."

"I'm disappointed, Ginny Weasley." Hermione looked down at her food, not feeling very hungry.

"Just look. Please?" Hermione shrugged and looked over at the Slytherin table, her eyes finding Draco Malfoy. He was sandwiched between Crabbe and Goyle, of course. Pansy Parkinson was sitting across from him, batting her eyes ridiculously. Hermione couldn't exactly deny that Malfoy had changed. He'd grown taller, from what she could see, and his face had matured. His boyish and aristocratic looks had grown to suit his face.

"He's _not_ good-looking, Ginny. Not one bit." Hermione assured her, rolling her eyes.

But in her heart, she knew this was a lie.


	3. Never Insult My Mother

A/N Thanks again, reviewers. I really appreciate your comments. The stuff keeps my juice flowing! And to clear up any confusion you might have--just keep that first chapter tucked in your mind. It's relevance will be revealed later on in the book.

Disclaimer: Not mine, again.

He glared at the common room as he plopped into a plushy green couch, watching carelessly as Pansy sidled up to him.

"Draco." Her thin, snake-like, lips curled into a half smile as she approached him. "Long summer, wasn't it?"

"Not long enough." Draco leaned his head back, focusing his eyes on the ceiling. He'd never noticed how intricately the snake on the ceiling was carved. He couldn't believe how tedious Hogwarts had become. It had always been monotonous, with Dumbledore as Headmaster, but this last year seemed like a stake through the heart. The only thing he looked forward to was being away from his father.

"Draco? Did you hear a word I just said?" Pansy was poking his shoulder, right on the pressure point.

"Ouch! No. Sorry." Draco winced. Of course, he wasn't _really_ sorry. It was hard to feel sorry for a girl you couldn't stand. To be honest, he only tolerated Pansy because their families were close and he had to see her all the time. Even in summer. Pansy let out a frustrated sigh and sauntered off, finished with her half-assed quest to gain Draco's attention. Draco kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, groaning. This was going to be a long year. He'd have to find a way to entertain himself.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Hermione smiled at the warmth in Harry's voice as he placed a hand upon her shoulder. She set her trunk down at the foot of the stairs going to the girl's dormitory.

"I'm fine, Harry. Really." She nodded at him and made a move to grab her trunk once again.

"Let me." Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, surprised at his sudden change in behavior. "Seriously, Hermione. I feel really bad about earlier. Forgive me?" Hermione sighed.

"Of course I forgive you, Harry. Or, at least, I will. If you help me up these stairs." Hermione flashed him a cheeky grin and began her trek up the stairs, Harry dragging two trunks up behind her.

"Look, Hermione," Harry cleared his throat as he set Hermione's trunks by her bed. "I think someone needs to speak for Ron."

"And why can't he speak for himself?" Hermione cocked her head and frowned.

"Because he can't seem to speak a word to you without messing it up."

"What?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry cracked a half-crooked smile. "Ron fancies you." Hermione sat down on her bed, resting her chin in her palms.

"Don't tell me that, Harry."

"You don't feel the same way, do you?" Harry's face fell in sympathy for his best friend.

"No. I just want Ron to go back to thinking I have cooties so the three of us can be what we once were. Our friendship is simple. Uncomplicated. I don't even want to-"

"Just tell him that." Harry interrupted. "Ron cares about you. Sure, he's going to be his stubborn self and get a bit upset, but in the end, he'll get over it."

"You think?" Hermione raised her eyes to Harry's, smiling.

"I do." Harry nodded and turned to go.

"Thanks, Harry. Good night."

"Good night." Harry said, before exiting the room.

Hermione let out a breathy sigh and opened her trunk. She changed into her pajamas, slid the trunks underneath her four poster, and snuggled into the warm sheets.

Draco awoke early Sunday morning. "Sunday" kept reverberating through his mind like a drum. The last day before classes began and his mind would be numbed for an entire semester. He couldn't wait for this big waste of time to end. Draco could feel his stomach rumbling, but the Great Hall wouldn't be open for breakfast for at least an hour. Rather than wasting his time in the common room, he figured it would be better to wander the halls aimlessly.

Draco roamed, this castle seeming to creak in disdain at the early hours. He rather liked the morning. It was quiet. There was no one to bother him and he usually found himself in the highest spirits at these times. It was just that Draco was finding himself in a delightfully pleasant mood, that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley rounded the corner. Wonderful. His favorite people.

"Hello, Potter. And Weasel." Draco spat. He couldn't help himself. His contempt for the two boys no directly in front of him even rivaled his hatred of his father.

"Malfoy." Ronl said his last name like it was a curse word. Draco found it incredibly offensive.

"Piss off. I don't want to waste any energy on you two."

"Oh really, Malfoy?" Harry stepped forward, glaring.

"Stop acting so high and mighty. So fucking pretentious. Just because mummy and daddy left you here to rot, Potter."

"Don't ever talk about my parents that way." Harry waved his wand in Draco's face.

"Besides, Malfoy. I hear your mom has gone _mental _and is in a _home_. Couldn't put up with you, could she?" Ron grinned, proud of his comeback. Draco felt fury rising up inside of him. Before he knew it, his fist was balled up and had hit Ron, smack in the middle of the face. Ron tumbled backwards. Harry jumped forward and tackled Draco to the ground.

"Fuck off, Potter." Draco clambered to his feet and raised his fist to strike at Harry.

"Wait one minute, young man." Draco turned, mouth formed into a rather stunned 'o'. Dumbledore was standing in the hallway, his mouth twisted angrily. He flashed a disappointed look at Harry and Ron. "You three," he pointed to each of them in disgust. "Follow me." The three boys followed him in silence, save for Draco mouth "Fucker" every time he caught Ron or Harry's eye.

"Fighting is discouraged at Hogwarts, as you know." Dumbledore peered down at them over his glasses. "I expect better from all three you. A bad way to start off the year," Dumbledore removed his glasses and shone them on the sleeve of his robes, sighing. "I'm going to have to punish you all. First off, 200 points from each of your houses will be docked immediately. And I'd like you all to do a little…character building."

"Character building? My father will-" Dumbledore held up a hand to silence Draco.

"Harry, for the next two weeks, you will be banned from Quidditch-"

"But professor-" Harry spoke for the first time Dumbledore had interrupted the argument.

"I'd like you to use your excess time helping to clean the field. You know what a mess it can be." Dumbledore smiled apologetically.

"Ronald, I think you'll be excited to know that you will be helping Professor McGonagall by assisting her as her TA. I'm sure she'll appreciate the assistance in the coming two weeks." Ron frowned, but didn't dare say anything.

"And Draco," Dumbledore turned his head to him. "Your grades are quite high, though your common sense doesn't seem to match," he frowned for a second, shaking his head. "I've found an experience that I think suits you quite well. You'll be helping the prefects with their after classes peer tutoring sessions over the next two weeks." Draco's jaw dropped.

"Tutoring?" He said bitingly.

"Yes. Tutoring." Dumbledore's tone let them all know that the conversation was over, no arguments.

Hermione dressed slowly in the morning, still unfamiliar to the harsh sounds of the alarm clock by her bed. Summer had been a time for rest and she'd become accustomed to sleeping until she was good and ready to wake up. She started with underwear--plain, white, cotton bra and panties as usual, then slipped on her gray skirt (she noticed it was getting small--she'd need a new one soon enough), and buttoned up her white collared shirt. Then came the grey vest, knee socks, and Mary-Janes. Finally, on top of all this, she put on her robes. They were much shorter than last year, a few inches above her ankles. She smiled--at least this meant she had grown. Just as Hermione was about to leave the dormitory and get her breakfast, she was stopped by the shrill voice of Parvati Patil.

"Hermione? Did you hear?" Parvati was twirling one plait between her long, skinny fingers.

"Hear what?"

"Ron and Harry, they got into a fight with Malfoy!"

"What?" Hermione sighed. It was only the first day of school.

"They're in loads of trouble with Dumbledore, I hear." Hermione groaned and ran out the dormitory door. Harry and Ron weren't in the common room and when she yelled up into their dormitory, no one answered. They had to be at breakfast.

Hermione dashed into the Great Hall. "Harry! Ron!" She gasped as she found the two.

"Hermione, you'll never guess what happened-" Ron started to say. Hermione noticed with pity that his nose was red and puffy.

"You got into a fight with Malfoy? Parvati told me."

"Well that ruins the surprise." Ron frowned and playfully punched his fist into the table.

"Surprise? It's not like something to be _proud _of!" She scolded.

"Just look at him. We won, no questions." Harry pointed over to Malfoy and his group of friends. Hermione slid her eyes over to them, focusing in on Malfoy's face. Sure enough, his light complexion was marred by a bruise on his right cheek and his lip seemed to stitched from a cut. Just as she was about to turn to the boys and admit their victory, Malfoy's silver eyes met hers. They stayed, locked in this gaze, for what seemed hours. In reality it was only a few seconds…but it stretched on. Hermione turned her eyes back to Ron and Harry.

"Good job, I guess." Hermione turned back to look at Malfoy, surprised to see that his eyes had never moved from their aforementioned gaze.

_Spooky._


	4. The Stacks

**A/N Thank you again for reviewing. I really do appreciate it. I seriously check my email every time I can to see if I've gotten more. I'm like an addict. Also, a short chapter. I apologize. But it seemed like a good place to end it :-)**

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**Pure Innocence: Thank you as well. It means a lot to me to get reviews!**

**cherbi161: You are a great reviewer! Here's your virtual oatmeal cookie ---> O**

**antanaqui: I love your story :) Glad you updated! **

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**yellowrosesinateacup: Love the username. Yes, Ron was out of line! Bad Ron!**

**kricketXo: I'm a lot like Hermione too. It can be a curse AND a blessing. **

**C.T Cruise: Just because you're my boyfriend, Chad, doesn't mean you have to say that :P **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, of course. I'd much rather own Draco. Which I don't. **

Draco Malfoy tugged at the uncomfortable fastening of his robe. He had always hated such confining clothing. It had never suited him. He sauntered down the hall, a scowl evident on his face as he approached the library. Peer tutoring. Ha. What a joke. He'd briefly considered ditching the entire fiasco, but he knew the consequences the old bat, Dumbledore, would reap may be much worse. He was already bored out of his skull from the day's worth of classes. First days were so tedious. Everyone always introducing themselves and talking about their summers. Like anyone actually cared about Susan Bones' trip to New York. Who wanted to go there, anyway? Draco looked down at his watch. He was late. Not that this bothered him. Maybe all the kids would be paired up with a tutor and he'd get lucky stocking shelves or something. Social interaction wasn't his thing.

As he entered the library, he saw the group of prefects, sitting around circular tables with books and parchment. Some were already working studiously with their charges, explaining how to do a simple potion or something. Draco considered calling the first year a "dumb ass" or some other explicative, but he smartly decided against doing so. It was then that his nightmare of a punishment got worse.

"Malfoy? Are you lost?" Hermione Granger peered up from her stack of books and parchment.

"Eh. No." Malfoy cleared his throat, taken aback by Granger's presence. "Actually, _mud blood_-"

"That's twenty points from Slytherin." Hermione pursed her lips and pointed to her shiny _Head Girl _badge. Draco sneered.

"I'm here to do tutoring, _Granger."_

_"What?" Hermione looked down at her roster, twisting her lips. "I guess you are. I never knew you were the volunteering type." Hermione raised her eyebrows in disbelief. _

"I'm not. This is forced labor." Draco looked her up and down angrily. "Now tell me what stupid brat I'm supposed to enlighten." Hermione sighed.

"The _stupid brat _you will be tutoring is Justin Long." Hermione pointed to a chubby redhead with thick glasses and freckles. Draco rolled his eyes. He stood in his spot, dumbfounded. "_Malfoy_," Hermione hissed. Draco shot her an annoyed look as he ambled over to Justin.

"Um. Hi." Draco stuck out his hand to the boy, who grunted in response and looked down at his books. Draco took a seat next to him, propping his chin in his hands. Several minutes ticked by. "Well, do you need help, or what?" Justin seemed taken aback by Draco's brash comment. He wiped the sweat from his shiny forehead.

"P-potions," He stuttered, "I need help with my potions homework." Draco looked down at the assignment in front of Justin. _Caterpillar, Daisy Roots, Leech Juice, Rat Spleen, and Shrivelfig--these ingredients are combined to create a certain potion. Please identify the potion and write about how each of the ingredients effects it's turnout. _

_Draco sighed. Simple. Mind-numbingly simple. _

"Um. Alright. Well, what do they make?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm here." Justin frowned. Draco groaned.

"Ok, you get your potions book. You look up each ingredient and see the potions listed on the left hand side that they're popular for. Once you've done that you can find the most common potion listed."

"How do I know if it's right?" Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose, annoyed at Justin's stupidity.

"You'd get the _formula." _Draco grit his teeth.

_"You don't have to talk to me like I'm stupid." Justin lowered his head, embarrassed. Draco was about the retort that, yes he should talk to him like that because, yes he was stupid, but he noticed Granger glaring over at him. _

"Sorry. Maybe you should go ask her-" He pointed to a sickly thin girl with stringy black hair. "For help." Justin nodded and left Draco to himself.

Hermione looked over at the girl beside her. She seemed to be doing just fine with her Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment. Hermione smiled. It always made her feel good to tutor. One, it made her feel smart, and two, she liked to know that she'd helped. Jennifer set her quill down and removed her glasses.

"Thanks, Hermione. I would never have figured this out without you."

"You're welcome." Hermione smiled down at the girl. With her frizzy hair and buck teeth, she sort of reminded Hermione of herself in his first year.

"I'll probably be back tomorrow." Jennifer shrugged and gathered up her things.

"I hope not. But if you are, I won't mind helping." Hermione waved the girl off as she exited the library. She looked down at the list. Jennifer Wheeler had been the last student on the list. She crossed off her name and closed her books. "Thanks guys for all your help. Would a few of you mind staying for a few minute, just to help put all the books back?" A few prefects raised their hands. The rest turned their backs to go, including a relieved Draco.

"Oh, Malfoy?" Hermione called after him as she studied a piece of parchment in her hand. Draco turned around.

"_What?" _

"I have a note here from Dumbledore. It says you are required to stay to help." Hermione smiled smugly, although she wasn't sure why. Part of her reveled in Draco's inconvenience, yes, but she'd rather eat frogs than spend an extra twenty minutes with him.

"Come _on. _No way, mud--Granger."

"It's not like I'm pleased," Hermione stuck her hip out. "Just come help me and we'll finish faster." Hermione turned her head to the three prefects who had offered to help. "Can you three just gather up the books and put them on the carts?" They all nodded and dispersed to the tables. Hermione turned back to Draco's annoyed attention. She reached beside her table and pulled up a bucket and a rag. "Just wipe the tables down."

"And what are _you_ going to do?" Draco grabbed the rag and began splashing water on her table defiantly.

"_I _am going to write my notes to the professors." She plopped down at her table and set her parchment down. The water Draco had splashed soaked through it. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I know it may be hard to follow directions--but don't wash my table until I'm done, okay?" Draco glared at her for a second before flipping the bird.

"I'm not even going to bother docking you points, Malfoy." She sighed, pulled out a second piece of parchment and a quill.

_Professor McGonagall- _

_Gertrude Lions struggled with her homework today. If she continues to have a hard time in class beyond the first week, I suggest you assign her weekly tutoring until her grades improve. As this is only her first day, I'd recommend watching her closely for a few days to make sure it wasn't first day jitters. _

_Thanks, _

_Hermione Granger _

_Hermione folded the letter and wrote Professor McGonagall's name on top and set it beside her. She glanced over at Draco, whose forehead was wrinkled in protest as he lazily scrubbed down his second table. The three prefects pushed over a book cart and waved to her as they exited the library. "Thank you!" She called after them. She looked back at Draco who had only just finished the second table. _

"You know what. Forget the tables." Hermione was frustrated.

"Does that mean I'm done?" Draco couldn't stand having the _mud blood _telling him what to do.

"No. I still need help with the book cart." She pressed against with all her might. It barely moved an inch.

"God, Granger. I thought you only lacked looks and personality. I guess strength too." Draco spat angrily.

"Have you ever seen _this _book?" She picked one up that looked to be over 900 pages. "They're _all _like this." She waved her hand in front of the cart. Draco grimaced and pressed against the book cart, moving it very slowly. He followed Hermione to the first library stack. "I need _A History of Potions: Volume 7_." Draco looked through the stack of books. He didn't see any spines listing that name, but then again, he hadn't bothered to turn over the dozen that weren't facing the right way.

"Oh, fine." Hermione climbed down from the stool she'd been perched on and searched through the books, finally pulling out a bright green one. She climbed back on the stool and put it back in place. "What happened to your face?" Of course Hermione was well aware what happened, but she found it oddly amusing to hear it from him.

"Like you don't know." Draco narrowed his eyes at her. Hermione grabbed the second book from her list and began searching for it's home.

"Embarrassed that Ron and Harry kicked your arse?"

"Right." Draco laughed.

"You know," Hermione climbed down from her stool and grabbed several books. "It's okay to _lose_." She squinted her eyes at him, waiting for a reaction.

"Fuck this. And fuck _you, _Mudblood." Draco didn't care if she docked points from Slytherin. All he cared about right now was getting away from Granger as soon as possible. He turned and started walking away without even so much as another word, Hermione's voice trailing behind him.

"30 points from Slytherin, Malfoy!"


	5. He Can't Turn Away

**A/N: Once again, thank you to all my readers. I've had a very bad week and I appreciate all your comments. They're the few bright spots in a time that's been really dark lately. **

**CoolChick0506: Thanks for all your reviews. Yes, I know I have several typos in there (whoops.) I just got myself a Beta, so hopefully that will decrease. **

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**Disclaimer: I don't own HP, I never will. sad face **

Hermione exhaled noisily, glancing down at her watch. Potions was almost over and she'd finally be free of the droning voice of Snape and his sycophantic Slytherin-worshippers. But then again, a transition from Snape to Draco Malfoy wasn't much of an improvement. He'd been infuriating last night. He'd left her so angry she'd barely slept a wink--and it wasn't hard to tell. Her eyes sported hefty dark circles from her tossing and turning. It wasn't much like her, but she'd found education an utter bore today. All she could think about was putting on some soft, fleece pajamas and crawling in-between her sheets for a well-deserved catnap. She supposed most students would be doing that after this class. Millicent Bulstrode looked positively lethargic as her heavy-lidded eyes began to droop. Unfortunately, for a Head Girl, the end of classes only meant the beginning of tutoring. As Snape announced the end of class, sneering happily to be rid of his students, Hermione walked out of glass with Ron and Harry.

"That class is such a bore." Ron complained as he ran a hand through his fiery hair.

"Having Snape teach it doesn't make it any better." Harry agreed.

"I'm exhausted." Hermione couldn't think of anything better to say than this.

"Go to sleep," Ron suggested plainly.

"Tutoring," she smiled sleepily "With _Malfoy._"

"I forgot," Ron rubbed his forehead groaning, "Sounds like torture."

"Definitely. Skip out today and go to Hogsmeade with us." Harry suggested.

"We can't just _go _to Hogsmeade," Hermione sighed, although the idea of sipping down hot butterbeers over a bag of Zonko's candy _was _tempting.

"We have an invisibility cloak, don't we?" Ron was chomping down on a chocolate frog he'd had in his pocket. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows together. She couldn't believe she was actually considering this.

"I can't. I just can't. I have to go to tutoring." She gave them a disappointed half-smile and turned down the hallway to the library. "Don't get caught."

"We probably will!" Ron called after her. This made her smile. True, the "Three Musketeers" didn't have a squeaky clean record and required an extra 'eye' from many of the teachers. Hermione watched Harry and Ron turn down the second hallway and then continued her journey to the library, carrying her books.

_Filthy mud blood. Know-it-all, pretentious kiss-ass. _Draco slumped in his chair, frowning. He could see out the double doors, to the saccharine communion of the three people he hated most in the world. Well, save for his father. She, with her just-out-of-bed hair and trembling posture that made her look fragile and volatile all at the same time. Her lips pressed together gently, her cheekbones standing a bit more prominent on a face that seemed all too pale. He despised this creature. Her mannerisms, from the way her hands fluttered at her hips to the way her eyebrows arched in disbelief, they rubbed him raw. But he'd found something new. In all his hatred, he was fascinated. Utterly fascinated with the way one girl could receive so much attention and yet cast it off, completely oblivious to the way others stared. She only seemed..ashamed, perhaps? He was dumbstruck with this new realization of Granger. He didn't find himself fascinated with Potter and Weasley. He only found contempt in his heart for them. Granger's eyes bore into the library as she started to walk, scanning it for a safe haven. It was then that her eyes focused in on his. Watery, rimmed with dark circles. She looked tired, broken, more frail than usual. He turned his head down, focusing his eyes on the desk.

**"Malfoy," Hermione set her books down on the table next to his. "Today you're to tutor Layla Wilkins. When she's here, I'll let you know." She turned her nose up in the air, another mannerism Malfoy felt himself invariably annoyed by. Hermione scooped up her books and located herself over to a table at the opposite side of the set up. She looked down at her list. It looked to be a long night. Only four prefects were signed up to tutor tonight, save for she and Malfoy. And it wasn't like Malfoy counted. She slid her eyes over to him. He was resting his chin on his palms, elbows propped on the table. He wasn't frowning. Nor was he smiling. He simply looked…indifferent. Hermione wasn't used to this. In her previous encounters with him, he usually showed highs of emotion--that emotion usually being irritation or condescension. His silvery eyes flickered between his stacks of books and the ceiling, creating the illusion that he was rolling his eyes…but Hermione knew different. Draco's anger was much more refined. Rolling eyes was reserved for the amateur cynics. **

"Hello." A quiet voice pulled her from her thoughts as the small body of a girl knocked up against her desk. The girl's voice was tranquil, but her face was not. Her features screamed of exuberance, from her thick blonde hair to her wide, straight-toothed smile. Hermione envied the girl for a bit. She seemed young--a fifth year, perhaps--but she carried herself with a confidence that Hermione could only dream of. Hermione had confidence in her intelligence, but was far from steady when it came to her personal opinion of her face.

"Hello." Hermione smiled up at the girl, waiting for her name.

"I'm Layla. Layla Wilkins. I should be on the list." Hermione briefly considered telling Layla that her name didn't seem to be there. It wasn't like Malfoy would teach her anything. She'd probably just giggle and _flirt_, anyway. "You're with Draco Malfoy. He's sitting right over there," She pointed to Draco's unenthusiastic form.

"Thanks." Layla smiled and walked on over to Draco. Hermione watched from the corner of her eye as Layla introduced herself to Malfoy. _Well he seems quite pleased._

"Hi. I'm Layla!" The girl before him stuck out her hand, grinning widely. Her green eyes seemed almost too big for her face.

"Oh. Hello." Draco looked up at her. He gestured to the seat beside him and she sat down.

"I need help with my _Wingardium Leviosa_. I know it's like, a first year charm, but it's been giving me problems ever since I got a new wand." She tucked a strand of silky hair behind her ear, revealing large diamond studs.

"Okay." Draco stuck out a hand for her wand and she handed it to him. He held it in his hand. It was springy…not too stiff and not too flimsy. A good, sturdy wand. "Nothing seems to be wrong with it." He handed it to her. She grasped the wand, frowning. He looked her over, noticing the green and silver of her tie. A Slytherin, in fact. He hadn't seen her before. He found this odd, because she was quite attractive and he usually scouted the "fuckable" ones within the first day.

"What year are you?"

"Sixth."

_"Oh. I guess we've never met." _

"I look different. I…grew up over the summer." She smiled flirtatiously at him.

"Well I guess that's it." Layla leaned over her charms book, her chest squashing against it, giving Draco a very nice view.

Hermione watched at the scene going on across the room. _Whore. She's not even that cute. They're not even learning. It's insulting. _

"Hermione?" The first year next to her tapped her on the shoulder. "Is that right?" Hermione scanned over Caleb's paper.

"Good job, Caleb. I think you've got it."

"Finally." Caleb sighed. "Took me long enough."

"Don't beat yourself up. You're taking advanced transfiguration as a first year. I didn't even do that."

"Really?" Caleb looked up at her with a mixture of awe and wide-eyed surprise. Hermione grimaced at this reaction. Everyone seemed to crown her the queen of education. She didn't hate this title…but sometimes it got a little…old.

"Really. Now I think you're ready to go and take a well-deserved break."

"Thanks Hermione." Caleb gathered his things and exited the library, obviously quite pleased with himself.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Layla swished her wand in an arc and the pencil in front of her began to levitate.

"I think you've got it." Draco nodded at her. Layla smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Draco. You were _so _much help."

"I'm glad." Draco gave her a stone-faced glare. Sure, she was cute, but ten minutes with this girl gave him a serious migraine.

"You know," Layla stood up and straightened her skirt, "We should get together sometime." Draco nodded. He didn't have the energy to turn this girl down. Besides, watching her yap like a Chihuahua for his attention was mildly entertaining. He watched her saunter out of the library, turning back several times to wink at him. _Fucking serious. Desperate, much? _

Hermione watched the last few students trickle from the library. Two hours later and she was just barely awake. Her eyes were becoming even more heavy as she stood to dismiss her volunteers.

"Thanks for your help." She smiled as the prefects left. She couldn't help but be glad to see them go. It just meant she was closer to being in her bed. She watched lazily as Draco trudged out of the library. Wait. Wasn't he supposed to stay? She groaned.

"Malfoy!" He turned around to glare at her. "You're supposed to stay, remember?"

"Of course I do. I'm not an invalid, _Granger. _A man's got to put up a fight, that's all." Draco raised his eyebrows expectantly at her.

"Get over here and help me put away these books, Malfoy." She pointed to the large pile on top of the book cart.

"Yes, _M'am." _ Draco felt heat rising in his cheeks, giving them the slightest pink. He hated being told what to do.

"So," Hermione began as she and Draco pushed the heavy cart over to the first stack, "I didn't know you were turning tutoring into a _escort service_."

"What?" Draco watched as Hermione pushed her hair away from her face, frowning at him.

"That tart," Hermione climbed onto her stool, "Layla. Looks like you were having fun."

"I was." Draco lied, simply because he liked seeing infuriation grace the features of the one Hermione Granger. Draco watched as she stretched up, her whole body elongating as she tried to replace a book on the top shelve. Her legs began to wobble oh so slightly. She emitted a tiny squeak, dropped her stack of books, and toppled onto the ground. Draco could only chortle as he watched the disgruntled Hermione attempt to regain her footing. She looked up at him, angrily.

"Help me." She stuck out a hand and Draco grasped it, yanking her up. "Ouch. Don't rip my arm off." She said haughtily, picking up her fallen books.

"Well, you're welcome." Draco snapped sarcastically. He watched lazily as Hermione continued restocking the bookshelves, every so often handing her a book. Every time she'd demand a new title he could feel his blood boil. The way she stuck out her lower lip ever so slightly when she ordered him around…it was so..so…_aggravating. _He gazed on as Granger pulled her long, out of control hair into an elastic, surprised to see a neck that was much longer and graceful than he would have guessed. She climbed down from the stool and knelt, searching the cart once again.

"It's boiling," she complained as she stood up. She unclasped the front of her robes and tossed the black fabric onto a chair behind her. Draco noticed for the first time in his life that the mud blood was, in fact, a girl. She wasn't just an ostentatious brain on legs. This thought was preposterous to him. It scared him, shook him to the core.

"Don't just stand there. Hand me the book, Malfoy." Draco lifted his head and realized that Granger was perched on her stool once again, her hand outstretched for the book.

"Calm down," He snapped, shoving one fist into his pocket. " What was the title again?"

"_McMann's Guide to Charming Charms." _Draco searched the cart, pulled out the hardcover book, and handed it to Hermione. "Thanks," she mumbled. "Well. That was the last one, Malfoy. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Unfortunately." Draco added as Hermione climbed down from her stool. He leaned against the bookshelf, watching as Granger gathered her things and tossed on her robes, once again cloaking a body that Draco had never realized existed.

Hermione awoke Saturday morning after quite a peaceful sleep. She felt rejuvenated, finally. After nights of tutoring that had left her resentful and unable to sleep, she'd finally gotten the rest she deserved. Over the last three sessions, Draco had mellowed out a bit. Rather than exchanging witty banter, he had mostly ignored her, happy to see Layla come in day after day to flirt with him. The girl had nearly had a fit when Hermione had scheduled her with a different tutor, and immediately requested Draco's 'excellent teaching skills'. "He's the only one that gets through to me." Layla had whimpered. Hermione had given in, finding Layla's obsession almost too comical to bear.

Hermione crawled her way out of bed, moving with the speed of a sloth and slid her trunk out from under her four poster. She propped up the lid of the trunk and rifled through it. From the window, she could see that green leaves were now various colors of red, orange, yellow, and brown and a slight drizzle was plastering them to the ground like a collage. While she could hear Lavender and Pavarti complaining from the across the room, she found the array of color and the rhythm of the rain quite striking. She pulled on a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a thick white jumper. It was one of those tops that made her feel like a princess, wrapped up in warm cashmere and a cowl neck protecting her from the cold. She looked in the mirror across from her. It had been a long time since she'd seen her hair be anything but frizzy. She'd found her ways to play up her curls, of course, but the energy and time it took to straighten was ridiculous. She found the idea of giving up a whole hour of sleep (like Lavender) to fix herself up absurd. But as she sat on her bed, giving herself the once-over, she decided today would be the fourth time in her entire life that she'd see herself with straight hair.

Hermione peered at the mirror, scrutinizing her face. It wasn't something she normally did because she knew she'd only find flaws. Her straightening attempt hadn't gone completely as planned. It wasn't a total train wreck, but she definitely hadn't ended up with sleek, shiny hair like she'd imagined. Halfway through, her arm had gotten tired and she'd given up the whole idea. Her hair was wavy, though without the frizz, and she had to admit it looked nice. Pretty, even. She turned her head from the mirror and returned to her trunks. It was lovely out. The rain had plastered even more leaves to the ground, so much that the ground looked like tie dye. She grabbed a big, black camera from the bottom of her trunk. She didn't have a particular talent for photography, but over the summer months she enjoyed taking pictures in her neighborhood. She hadn't even thought to bring the clunky excuse for a camera to Hogwarts until this year. She figured it was her last year, so she might as well bring something to remember it by. Hermione slipped her head through the neck strap (mildly amused that her hair didn't get caught in the fastenings for once) and left the room.

As she entered the common room, she could see Harry and Ron playing chess by the fire and Ginny snuggled up in a quilt, reading.

"Going out?" Ginny asked, looking up from her book, which looked to be a muggle romance novel. Hermione smiled.

"Yes. Good book?" Ginny blushed furiously.

"My dad brought home a bunch of muggle books in a cardboard box. I can't get enough of this." She pointed enthusiastically at her book.

"It's embarrassing, really." Ron added. "Hey, where are you going off to? It's miserable outside."

"No it's not." Hermione watched as Harry made an especially sneaky move.

"Checkmate." Harry smiled.

"Sneaky, Harry. Real sneaky." Hermione gave Harry a thumbs up as she walked out of the common room and into the hall.

The Hogwarts grounds were wet and soggy as Hermione stomped through them, the grass protesting in squashy noises as she walked. Hermione held up her camera, focusing it on a rainbow that was starting to form over the forest. The camera clicked as she captured the moment, smiling. That one would turn out wonderfully. She turned the camera to a group of students walking about twenty feet away. As she held the camera to her eye and snapped the photo, she felt oddly like Colin Creevy. She shuddered. Nice boy, but socially inept. Even more so than she. Hermione plopped onto the ground and lay down, the moisture soaking into the back of her sweater. She grinned. The back of her head was going to be back to frizz when she sat up. She held the camera up, looking through the lens at the color streaked sky. It was breath taking. She held the button down, her camera snapping.

Draco was glad to finally be out of his stuffy robes. He pulled his leather jacket around his form as he walked the grounds. He liked rain. It was noiseless and void, unlike the bustling and harsh sunlight of summer. He watched as a group of students wrestled in the grass. To him, it ruined the comfort of the weather. He liked things quiet and peaceful, undisturbed by people's stupidity. His eyes wandered to the form of a girl, laying on her back in the grass. Her brown hair was splayed behind her across the ground as she held a camera above her face. As he got closer, he could hear the click of the camera. She set the camera next to her waist and sat up. It was then that Draco recognized her. Granger. He watched, intrigued, as she smoothed the knees of her jeans and stared out at the horizon, the faintest of smiles crossing her face. The dark shadows of clouds played across her face, making the freckles across her cheeks and nose more noticeable.

"Malfoy?" She turned to him. Her voice sounded perplexed, but not irritated or angry like usual.

"You take pictures." He said this with his voice cool and flat, no inflection marring it's simplicity.

"Yeah." She picked up the camera and took another picture of something in the forest. "I like rain."

"Me too." He plopped down next to her, amazed that he was speaking to her without a hint of indignation in either of their voices.

"There's something so surreal about it. Like the world doesn't care what's going on. It just does what it has to. So many people find rain depressing, but it makes me feel better." Hermione moved a rain soaked piece of hair from her cheek.

"Exactly." Draco leaned back on his palms, admiring the rain falling on the shine of his black shoes. They sat in silence like this, neither of them speaking, barely breathing.

"You know what's funny?" Hermione turned to him, smiling.

"What?"

"We're having a conversation." Draco chuckled quietly.

"I guess that is funny." He stood up, wiping the grass from the back of his pants. "See you around, Granger."

"Wait." Draco spun around. Hermione was holding her camera up. He heard it click.

"Something for your masturbatory fantasies, Granger?" Draco's voice came out harsher than he had intended. Hermione's face fell.

"Go away." She lay back into the grass, staring up into the sky. She felt ashamed she'd even spoken to him like he was human. He was disgusting. She watched from the corner of her eye as he walked away, not bothering to turn back.

A/N: Please review. It really helps me write and get through my rough times…sob story, I know. Thanks all for reading!


	6. Darkness

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Draco felt wetness seep into the back of his pants as he sat down on the bleachers. It was still raining. Saturday night had seen a few dry spells, but by Sunday morning the rain had been back in full force. It was now accompanied by a lolling roll of thunder every so often, and if he was lucky, he would catch the arbitrary lighting flash up over the Dark Forest. He watched warily as Crabbe and Goyle passed by the bleachers, snacking on a bag of candy. Crabbe shoved a handful of variously colored chews into his mouth, his chewing reminiscent of a cow, or some other farm animal. Draco felt himself more annoyed with the two than usual. He'd never adored them, but they'd made for good sidekicks. But now they just seemed like drooling guard dogs that never stopped following him. He felt relieved when their hefty figures didn't stop to greet him and just kept ambling on by the bleachers, gleefully eating.

Draco kicked his feet up onto the bleacher in front of him and focused his eyes onto the grey sky. The solid color was suddenly broke by the arching flight of a black owl, his father's personal message carrier. The owl swooped down, landing on Draco's exposed arm, it's talons digging painfully into his skin. He whipped his arm away, the bird squawking angrily as it shifted to the bleacher next to him. Draco saw the letter attached to the owl's leg, emblazoned with the Malfoy seal. He felt his heart begin to palpitate roughly; his parents _rarely _sent him letters. If they did, it was usually his mother and she never used such formalities as the seal. Draco cautiously untied the letter and held it in his hands, shaking. He stared at it for a few minutes, deciding whether or not to break the seal. Everything could be so easy. He imagined pulling his wand out of his pocket, making a fire on the tip, and burning the letter to ashes. He'd never have to know what evil things his father had to say. He imagined the rage that would flare up in his father's eyes when he found out what he'd done…how he'd twist his long, skinny fingers, in his palm and lick his lips, his eyes bulging with madness. Draco felt his finger slide beneath the envelope and tear the seal in one fluid motion. He unfolded the parchment, bracing himself. When he saw the neat cursive and impersonal opening, it closed off any hope that the sender was his mother. He wasn't even sure that she could write in her state, anyhow.

_Son, _

_Your mother has given birth. I have taken the boy into my care. _

Draco's eyes widened and he angrily stuffed his letter into his pocket. He'd known, of course, that his mother was pregnant when his father had sent her to _the home. _Narcissa, for a reason unbeknownst to Draco, had become belligerent during the summer. It had only spiraled into maddened screams, ramblings, and long spells--sometimes weeks--where she refused to speak at all. Narcissa had been pregnant when his father sent her away and he assumed his father would abort the baby. But it seemed that his father had let his crazy wife go through the pangs of pregnancy. Alone. In a home. Draco felt his anger boiling hotter, imagining how his father had probably burst into Narcissa's quarters and ripped the infant from her arms, not even allowing her to say goodbye. His father had stooped to an all time low. He felt tears building in his ducts as he thought more and more about the situation. He tried to suck them up. "Malfoy's don't cry." Or so his father had always told him. An impassioned tear slipped from his eye and he wiped it away. _Suck it up, boy. Don't go sniveling like a brat. Shut up. Don't be so weak. _His father's voice was tormenting him. No wonder his mother had gone crazy--spending her whole life with the monster. He thrust his shoulders back and stood. He had to see his mother. He had to make sure she was okay. As he turned on one heel, moving forward, he smacked into another person. Hard.

"Ouch." She rubbed her forehead where is had collided with Draco's chin.

"Granger?" Draco was massaging his chin.

"Are you okay?" Hermione felt herself asking this. She'd been up in the Slytherin tower for a good view of the forest to take pictures when she'd come upon the hunched body of Draco. It had stunned her so much, she'd been afraid to move.

"I'm fine. It's not like you give a fuck anyway." Draco tried to avoid eye contact. If the mud blood knew he'd almost cried…

"I was just asking, Malfoy. You don't have to be so _rude_." Hermione narrowed her eyes, angrily. Every time she'd tried to be civil to him, he just broke her down. Draco felt another spew of antagonism hitting his lips, but he stopped himself. More than anything right now, he didn't want to be his father's son.

"You don't have to be _nosy_ mud…Granger." He gulped. It was the best sentence he could muster.

"Sorry." Hermione shrugged. "I just stumbled upon you."

"It's…alright. I'm just in a bad mood." Draco sat back down on the bleachers. Hermione sat down next to him, careful not to get too close.

"That's not unordinary." Hermione chuckled a little bit, staring directly out across the Quidditch field.

"You just think that. You only see me when I'm in bad moods."

"And why is that?" Draco turned to Hermione.

"Because I don't like you."

"Likewise." Hermione slumped forward, her elbows on her knees. "What happened?" She couldn't pinpoint her reason for caring, but it was almost disappointing to see her nemesis so down. She wasn't used to seeing Malfoy looking so…bleak.

"My mother had a baby."

"Oh. Why is that so bad?" Draco considered this for a second.

"My mum's crazy. Or enough so that my father thinks she needs to be a _home,_" Draco's words slipped off his tongue icily. His contempt for his father was quite obvious to the puzzled Gryffindor beside him.

"I'm…sorry. You should visit her. It might make you feel better. I bet she'd like it too." Hermione couldn't seem to stop herself from offering advice. Sometimes she didn't know when to shut her mouth. But Draco didn't lash out like she'd expected.

"I want to. But with my punishments, I'll never be able to slip away." Hermione swallowed, thinking.

"I'll cover for you in tutoring tomorrow if you'd like."

"Don't do me any favors, Granger." Draco stood, running a hand through his hair.

"I won't."

"Thanks." Draco gave her a cordial nod before climbing up the bleachers and out of the Slytherin tower.

Hermione sat upon her four poster, a stack of photos before her. She was still feeling a bit funny from the day's events. From her talk with Malfoy to her afternoon in Hogsmeade with Ron and Harry, her mind was a blur. She wasn't sure what to make of her day. Secretly, her heart ached for Draco. She couldn't imagine losing her mother, not to death, but to mental complications. The other half of her was confused. Ron had spent the entirety of their trip attempting to woo her, and Hermione had tried to show him, in a nice, unspoken way, that she was not to be wooed. He'd bought her a butterbeer, complimented her sweater, opened doors for her…it was all so un-Ron-like. She found herself thinking that if Ron could just act like himself, she might even like him.

Hermione looked down at the first photograph from her stack. It was from the first day, a very happy photograph of Harry and Ron laughing. Of course, they weren't moving in her picture. Her camera was a muggle one, void of magical achievements. She flipped to the second picture, the rainbow. She frowned. It hadn't turned out the way she'd imagined. The colors seemed much less vibrant on paper. She flipped on through the stack, coming across a collection of sky pictures. She grabbed the first one and tacked it to the wall, next to her bed. It was perfect. When she came upon the next picture, she felt a blush rising in her cheeks. The impulsive picture she'd snapped of Malfoy. His head was turned towards the camera, looking back at her. His facial expression was composed, his lips slightly upturned and his eyes boring deep into the picture. His hair was slightly ruffled from the wind and the black of his jacket contrasted with the pale of his skin. It was indeed a nice picture. Hermione felt the need to save it…as an example of her work, of course. She reached under her bed and slid it into the zippered compartment of her travel suitcase.

Draco stood in front of the double doors, the white blinding him. He'd just arrived, by broomstick, to the home where his mother was being kept. The silver doorknobs seemed to chastise him as he stood, feet planted firmly on the cement. He was scared. For one of the first times he'd ever admit, he was terrified. He'd taken off immediately after his talk with Granger, flying all night and several hours of the morning to reach his mother. He hadn't given it much thought--until now. What if his father was there? No, he wouldn't visit her like a normal husband. He'd be off making money somewhere, probably doing something illegal. Draco wrapped his hand around the cool doorknob and twisted, pushing the door open. A nurse dressed in long white robes was sitting behind a desk, writing on parchment.

"Hello. Do you need help?" She lifted her head, and Draco noticed she looked a little worn around the edges. He supposed a job like hers would do that to a person.

"Um. Yes. I'm here to see Narcissa Malfoy."

"I'm sorry, son. Visiting hours are only on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday."

"I'm her son." The woman peered over her glasses, contemplating the young man standing before her.

"Considering the _circumstances…_" She sucked on the end of her quill a bit, "I suppose you can go on in. She's down this hallway, room 7." Draco nodded at the nurse, grateful for her kindness and began his walk down the hall. He found the home eerily still, like no one had lived there for years. But Draco knew different, in fact, his mother had been here for months. He felt his chest tighten as he imagined what she'd look like. The images flashing in his mind almost made him turn around and run. Draco reached room seven, took a deep gulp of air, and pressed the large green button next to the door. The door cracked up and he slipped inside. The instant he was in the room, the door closed and buzzed, locking.

At first, the room seemed empty to Draco. Everything was white. The walls were white, only marred by a few colored photographs of himself. Then he saw her. Narcissa was huddled on the corner of her bed, hands folded delicately in her lap. She wore a white nightgown and her light blonde hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She looked up at him, her blue eyes wavering in uncertainty.

"Mum." Draco stepped forward and took the shaking figure of his mother in his strong arms, holding her tightly.

"You've finally come to see me." She whispered into his neck. He could feel the wetness of her tears staining the collar of his shirt.

"Father told me about the baby." Narcissa yanked away from Draco, scooting her frail form against the wall.

"Took it away," she mumbled incoherently, "Took it away."

"I'm sorry, mum." Draco crawled onto the bed, desperately wishing for a way to calm his mother.

"He took the monster away." Narcissa's eyes darted up to the ceiling and she blinked several times. Draco remained silent, trying to keep his heavy breathing under wraps. "Dark child. He took it. It wasn't supposed to _live_." Narcissa's face was filled with terror as she turned back down to Draco. "It hurt me."

"What hurt you, mum?" Draco was leaning in towards her, trying to understand what she was trying to tell him.

"The darkness. He took the darkness."

"What's the darkness, Mother?" Narcissa looked at him for a few seconds. She seemed to look right through him. Then she raised a bony, vein-ridden hand, and pointed it at her still swollen stomach. "It _was_ here." Draco felt his heart begin to choke. "It's not supposed to _live._" She said again, tears collecting in her eyes.

"Mum, it's okay." Draco could see she was getting overworked and he tried to ease her by rubbing her shoulders.

"No. He has the _darkness,_ he doesn't need _you. _Worthless, is what he said."

"Mum?" Narcissa had pulled herself into fetal position, rocking back and forth and moaning.

"Darkness. Bad. Darkness." She kept repeating this over and over again, until her words became screams of agony. Draco anxiously tried to calm her, but it was to no avail. The door creaked open and the nurse from the desk stepped in.

"I think you better go. She's going to start the others up again." The woman looked down at Draco and he nodded. He gave a quick kiss to his mother's forehead.

"Don't be scared, mum." His mother's body was still convulsing in a fitful rage as he left the room in a hurry.

_The darkness. It wasn't supposed to live. _

_**A/N: Thank you again for reading. Remember to review! Comments & constructive criticism are always greatly appreciated. They only make mea better and more effective writer. **_


	7. Draco Can't Help Himself

**A/N: As always, thanks for reading. And reviewing (hopefully!). I honestly hope I'm succeeding in entertaining you all. **

**I don't think this worked in the last chapter. I have a lovely cover art for the fan fiction. You can see it here: http // img .photobucket. Com /albums /v91 /SpikeStalker /hpcover new .jpg Just take out the spaces! Thanks Willowfairy for the advice. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own HP, blah-diddy-blah-blah-blah.**

**Special Notes For Chapter 6 Reviewers**

**Everyone: Go read Love me For Me by Rilicious. It's amazing and it needs more reviews. It's a gem! **

**Yellowrosesinateacup: As I was proofreading that chapter, I realized it sounded a lot like the Ring 2. Other than that scene, the storyline doesn't seem to follow any other characteristics of the movies, so I decided to leave it be. Anyway, thank you SO much for reviewing! **

**Antanaqui: Thanks for reviewing! Well, I _can _say that her pregnancy caused the insanity. But we'll have to wait to find out if the effects are permanent or not. **

**Lizbeth16: Thanks for reviewing! Keep on reading.**

**Cherbi161: You just made my head so big. I'm really excited about this plot. Usually when I write stories, I just kind of go with it. Then I got to that chapter and realized I didn't want to write a story that was _just _about romance. I wanted to do something different. So I actually planned a plot ahead. It took me ages, but I'm pleased. Thank you for the review! You made me so happy!**

**Rilicious: Haha, crazy girl. Walking dictionary? That's awesome. Thanks for the review and keep on writing your story! **

**CoolChick0506: I really enjoyed your story. I'm hoping for a sequel. Read over chapter 5 carefully and you might find out what the photo is. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Southernbelle: Well thank you! I love photography and I admire those who can do it, so I decided to give that to Hermione. **

**Willowfairy: Thanks for the advice. I'll try posting that again!**

**Lilcarverjb: Thanks for all your reviews! I'm glad I can make it like a movie in your head. That's what I look for when I'm reading something. **

Hermione sat nonchalantly at her desk near the end of tutoring…or so it appeared. In all reality, she was quite tense. Underneath the table, her hands were clutched nervously at the hem of her robes. It had been several days since she'd spoken to Malfoy and he hadn't come to tutoring since. She'd covered for him, of course, it was a civil thing to do for anyone. Although she didn't enjoy Malfoy all that much, she was beginning to find herself worried for him. What if he died and it was her fault for not telling anyone? She would never forgive herself. The night had been relatively slow, a fact she resented. If she'd been busy, her mind might have lifted from her worries for at least twenty minutes. She'd only helped one student and argued with Layla for several minutes about where her "precious Draco" was. Layla had finally given up and stomped out the library, squealing loudly.

Hermione watched tensely as the prefects filtered out of the library. Nobody had asked her any questions about Malfoy's whereabouts and she suspected they didn't really care. Most of them didn't pay him any mind, either because he terrified them, or because they hated him. She stared at the book cart beside her desk. Without Draco, she hadn't been able to move the book cart lately, and she'd let it pile up. Now books were sticking off haphazardly, about to topple onto the ground. She stood, pushed up the sleeves of her robes and pressed herself against the cart. It moved ever so slightly. She continued pushing with all her strength, making advancements of about a foot per minute. She stepped backwards and took a huge heave at the cart. It didn't budge. She knelt down to the ground, seeing that the front wheel was stuck on the corner of a bookshelf.

"Bloody hell." She cursed, gripping the leg and trying to wedge it off.

"Need some help?" A cool, flat voice sounded besides her and she jumped a little bit. People were never in the library at this time. Well, except her.

"Malfoy?" She jumped up and spun around, not sure if she wanted to hug him or slap him. She chose the latter.

"What the hell, Granger?" Draco gripped his reddening cheek angrily. "What the fuck was that for?"

"I covered for you and you couldn't even tell me if you were okay? Or coming back?" Hermione's fists were balled up with rage. "I don't know why because I can't stand you, and right now I want to boil you alive, but I was worried sick, you prat!"

"Get a grip, Granger." Draco backed away, slightly fearful of the screaming female in front of him.

"I certainly will _not._ I could have gotten expelled for protecting you like that, you know."

"Dumbledore would never expel _you_, mudblood. You're too goddamn _brilliant._ You have nothing to worry about."

"Flattery goes a long way, Malfoy." Hermione's face softened and she took a deep breath. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just had some stuff to do."

"Did you see your mother?"

"Why are you asking me all these bloody questions?"

"I want to know."

"Well, for your information, yes, I did see my mother."

"How is she?"

"She's a nutcase. What do you expect?"

"I'm…sorry."

"No you aren't." Draco frowned disbelievingly.

"I really am. It must be hard seeing her like that."

"It is."

"Did she tell you what happened to the--her baby?" Hermione sat down on the floor next to the book cart and Draco followed suit.

"Not really. She kept calling it the darkness, saying it shouldn't live."

"Spooky." Draco nodded.

"She said it hurt her, or something." He rubbed his temples. "I don't know if I should take her seriously or take her threats as psychotic ranting." Hermione seemed to roll this around in her brain for a few minutes.

"I could…look into it, if you want. I'm sure they have something about this sort of thing in this huge library." Hermione wasn't completely sure why she was helping Malfoy. It was just that…he seemed to need help, as simple as that. Draco considered saying something rude, but as much as he hated taking assistance, he could admit he could use it right now.

"Okay."

"After tutoring tomorrow, then? We can start researching." Hermione stood up and pulled the sleeves of her robes down self-consciously. The way Malfoy was looking at her, with such gratitude in his eyes, was making her uncomfortable.

"Er--okay. Thank you." He stuttered with the words. Hermione looked up at him and gave him a little half-smile.

"You're welcome. Just don't be a prick to me after I've thrown _my_ ass on the line for _you_, Malfoy."

"Okay, mudblood."

"And _don't_ call me mudblood." Hermione looked up into his silvery eyes, searching for some sort of agreement. He nodded. He reached out and gave her slightly awkward pat on the back, like something you give to a distant relative who smells funny, gives you wet kisses, and calls you 'kiddo'.

"Bye." Draco waved to her, walking out of the library, his eyebrows knitted together in an awful confusion.

Hermione woke up the next morning, with the faint realization that it was, in fact, her seventeenth birthday. She'd never made a big fuss over birthdays. She'd been brought up to accept that one or two presents and dessert at dinner was a doting holiday. She smiled, remembering the two presents at the bottom of her trunk from her parents. She clambered out of bed, opened her trunk, and dug around for several minutes. Finally, she found the two brown-bagged gifts. She yanked them out and sat them in her lap, smiling. Her eyes lingered on Crookshanks's napping form and she patted the top of his head affectionately. She tore her fingers into the brown paper of the larger present and pulled out a portable CD player. She laughed, half entertained and half disappointed. Her parents obviously wouldn't know that electronics wouldn't be of much use at Hogwarts. She sat the CD player aside; she'd put it to good use during the summer. The second gift was a bit more neatly wrapped. She took a little big longer opening it, as it's delicate wrapping seemed to call for a gentler undoing. She sighed as the present came into view. A book. A nice, safe book. _Siddartha _by Herman Hesse. She thumbed her way through the book, the scent of new pages exciting her senses. She loved the way new books smelled, fresh and ready to read. Now she had something to look forward to every night.

Draco sat at breakfast, anticipating the owl that would come with his punishment. He was fairly sure Dumbledore had clued in to the fact that he missed three days of school. Sure enough, just as he was halfway into his eggs, an owl swooped over the table and landed on his plate, effectively squashing his toast and marmalade. He untied the letter, scowling, and carefully unfolded it.

_Mr. Malfoy, _

_Your tutoring sessions with the prefects will be extended one extra week due to your absence in your classes. You will also be asked to work with our Head Girl in planning Halloween festivities. Remember, leaving school is a serious offense. If this happens again, it won't be taken lightly. 100 points was also docked from your house._

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

_Draco tossed the letter down into his plate. "One hundred points," The shrill voice of Pansy Parkinson shrieked from beside him. She glared angrily. _

"Like you care, Pansy." Draco narrowed his eyes at her, stood up with his plate, and stomped over to an unoccupied section of the Slytherin table. It wasn't long before the empty seat next to him was taken by none other than Layla.

"Where have you been?" Her big green eyes quavered at him as he considered the answer.

"Away."

"Well obviously." Layla twirled a blonde strand of hair around her pinky finger. "I missed you." She slid her opposite hand on to Draco's knee. Draco felt his body tense up at the contact. He moved his hands towards hers, and Layla's face began to light up. Her features fell, however, we he used his hand to slid hers off of his knee. Draco could see her green eyes darken, as if she was plotting her next move. He felt as if he was being cornered, the predator getting ready to pounce on him.

"You're scared," she purred.

"What?" She was leaning into him, batting her eyelashes manically.

"I don't mean to intimidate you," she placed her hands on his shoulders. Draco shrugged them off.

"You don't intimidate me. Although you do freak me out a little." Draco spat, completely irritated with Layla's forward actions. Layla cocked an eyebrow, obviously an attempt to lure Draco into her trap.

"Oh, stop." She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, giggling.

"Fucking hell." Draco pushed her away, stood, and stomped off to his first class, leaving Layla pouting and confused.

"Well that was an interesting session." Hermione tossed her books onto the table and sat down next to Draco. He nodded, groaning a bit. "Layla wasn't in here today," Hermione added, "Disappointed?"

"Hardly." Draco made a 'crazy' motion, twirling his finger by his temple. Hermione chuckled, brushing her hair away from her neck.

"Well, I've pulled a few books from the shelves…just things that might have relevance." She pushed a stack of five or six books towards Draco and he grimaced.

"God damn, Granger."

"What?"

"You're just so..so…_academic_." Hermione opened her mouth, slightly offended.

"And that's a bad thing?"

" It's just…do you ever get out?"

"Of course I get out, Malfoy. Now, this book has several chapters on birth.." Hermione flipped to the center of a particularly large book.

"I think I just proved my point." Draco leaned toward Hermione, reading the tiny print of the book.

"This isn't going to help," Hermione traced her pointer finger down the page, "This is just about magical birthing techniques."

"Ugh." Draco looked down at the picture splashed across the page. Hermione slammed the cover closed and pushed it across the table. Draco flipped through the pages of his book, but was only met by similar information.

"Maybe my mum's just ranting." He frowned, considering this.

"What if she's _not_?"

"Then we're all fucked," Draco grinned sarcastically. He grabbed another book and began to page through it. "So," he began, swallowing, "I guess I have to work with _you_ on the Halloween stuff this year." Hermione's eyes widened.

"What? But, _why_?"

"Punishment for up and leaving," Hermione frowned, looking disappointed, "What? Feeling threatened?"

"Not one bit, Malfoy," Hermione's face tightened, looking extremely smug. Draco sighed.

"I don't think these books are going to help, Granger. I think I'll just look into it on my _own_."

"Like you could." Hermione reached for another book, her elbow accidentally knocking against her bag. The bag toppled to the floor, it's contents spewed all around the table. She knelt down, picking up quills, parchments, several books, and a stack of birthday cards.

"When was your birthday?" Draco wasn't sure he was asking. He convinced himself he was just curious as to what kind of freak carried around stacks of birthday cards.

"Today." Hermione shoved everything back into her bag and set it beside her chair.

"Oh." Draco didn't say anything, but he was floored. He couldn't believe that _Granger_, of all people, had given up her birthday to help _him. _It was just another item to add to his list of things that confused and/or fascinated him about the mud blood.

"It's late," Draco closed his book, "Let's call it a night." Hermione nodded.

"All right."

"Plus, you can go celebrate. With Potty and Weasel. If they count as friends, I mean."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Well, it's all a matter of perspective. Do fuckbuddies count as friends, _Granger_?" Draco couldn't help himself. It was too good of an insult.

"What's your problem, Malfoy?"

"Or are you too frigid for that?" Malfoy was on a roll. He couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to.

"I was being perfectly nice to you." Hermione's lower lip began to quiver as she narrowed her eyes onto his face. "Why are you always such an ass?" Her brown eyes filled with tears as she clenched her fists. Draco shrugged.

"Second nature." Hermione stood there for a second, contemplating the situation, before grabbing her back and stomping out of the library in a huff.

_Such a Malfoy. Turning down good help in favor of self pride. _


	8. I Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You

**A/N: Don't own Harry Potter. **

**Special Notes: **

**Yellowrosesinateacup: Yeah, he is being an ass. Bad Draco. Maybe Mione will punish him…;) haha. **

**Rilicious: Thank you so much!**

**Cherbi161: Yum, cheesecake. My favorite, how did you know?**

**Draco'sBlackRose: Nice pen name! Thanks for the review! **

**Antanaqui: Thank you. You'll find out soon!**

**Lilycarverjb: He is a meanie. It's okay to say! Lol. **

**CoolChick0506: Don't worry about it for a while. Here's a chapter for you!**

He was sitting on the wet grass, a place she'd seen a lot in the past week. She hadn't dared to speak to him since their research night. Even in tutoring, she remained silent to his taunts, doing only what she must. She watched, intrigued, as rain fell on his head, plastering his white-blonde hair to his scalp. The storms had started up again a few nights ago and every time she went out to enjoy the weather, he'd been in the same spot.

Hermione continued down the corridor, tugging her green sleeves down her arms. The courtyard was deserted. The entire student body seemed to have retreated from the downpour, taking safe haven in the warm armchairs and fires of the common rooms. She seated herself on a fixture of stone and gripped her camera tightly. She could still see the tip of Malfoy's head from her position. She was completely thrown by him. Her entirety of education had been marred by the selfish, one-dimensional character who had taunted she and her friends since she was eleven years old. But, somehow, she had seen a few glimpses of a real person beneath his cold exterior. She'd let down her guard, tried to be a good person and help him, and he'd just pushed her down. She leaned back into the stone, looking up into the gray sky, sighing. Maybe that's what happens when you open up your heart. She could feel rain splattering against her cheeks, giving the semblance of tears. She _hated _Malfoy. _Hated _him. She hated his cocky nature, she hated his stupid sneers, she hated that cocky grin. She hated that she could be so damn nice to him and he could be such an ass to her. She lifted her camera, snapping a few pictures of the sky. She always found it to look different. Sometimes it looked mysterious, taunting, or playful. Right now it just looked sad.

Draco lifted the bottle of Fire Whiskey to his lips and took a long gulp. The liquid burned the back of his tongue on the way down. It was raining again, and this made him happy. Although happy was a state of mind when came to Draco Malfoy. He'd been in an awful mood all weekend. All week Granger had thrown him those pouty, wounded-dog expressions during tutoring and Layla had been absolutely maddening, following him around all day and whimpering for attention. What was wrong with the women in his life? At least Pansy had given up her pointless quest for him. Draco took another swig of Whiskey, frowning. How many bottles had he had? Two? Three? He took the last gulp of liquid and tossed the glass bottle next to his feet. The sky above him was starting to swirl with color.

"Malfoy? What the hell are you doing?" He looked over to the girl next to him, her hands on her hips.

"Granger," he slurred, waving at her. "I'm just enjoying the rain."

"Are you drinking?"

"You know what," Draco pulled his knees to his chest, smiling, "I think I am." He kicked a discarded bottle of whiskey and it rolled across the grass. Hermione sat down next to him.

"You're drunk!" Hermione scanned the area around them, counting four bottles in the grass.

"That I am. I have a quest..ion, Granger."

"What?" Hermione sighed.

"Why are you such a tightass, Hermit? Herman? Her-my-oh-knee?" Hermione felt a jolt shoot through her chest. That was the first time she'd ever heard her first name uttered from Malfoy's lips.

"I'm..not…" she stuttered, angered by his comment.

"I think you are," Draco wiped his lips. "You need to be loosened up. Always books. And teachers." He laughed.

"You're just drunk. Let me help you up to your common room or you're going to drown in your own vomit, or something." Hermione wrinkled her nose, disgusted.

"'Haha, very funny, mud blood."

"You're insufferable, you know that?" Draco nodded vigorously and gave her a thumbs up.

"I am! I really, really, really am." Hermione squatted behind him and tried to pull him up, but he didn't budge.

"Come on. Help _me." _

"I don't wanna!" Hermione slumped to the ground next to him. She couldn't just _leave _him piss drunk in the middle of the Hogwarts grounds. She'd just have to wait until he sobered up enough to get himself to the castle. "Your hair is big." Draco patted Hermione's head, grinning from ear to ear. "But I like it." They were nose to nose now, his eyes wide and dilated.

"Malfoy, stop talking before your embarrass yourself." Draco didn't speak. He stared at her like a deer in headlights for a few seconds before her leaned forward and firmly pressed a slightly sloppy kiss against her lips. Hermione's eyes widened and she pulled back. "Too late." She wiped her lips as Draco leaned his head against her sweater-clad shoulder. He let out a soft snore. It was then that she saw the crumpled parchment sticking out of the pocket of Draco's jeans. She, feeling slightly nosy, tugged as the parchment and smoothed it out. She could see the remains of a broken green and black seal on the edges of the parchment. She took a deep breath and began to read:

_Son, _

_The celebration of your brother Tynan will be on October 31st at six pm. I expect to see you there. _

_-Father_

_Hermione set the letter down, frowning. They needed to find out what the story was with the child…and soon. Perhaps this Halloween celebration would be the perfect opportunity to inspect the child. _

Draco blinked his eyes open, slowly. He had a maddening headache and his throat felt thick with saliva. He turned his head, the bones in his neck crackling slightly. He was outside. In the grass. It was dusk, the sunset almost completely sunken into the sky. A girl was next to him, laying on her back in the grass. Her green sweater almost blended in with the field. It was Granger.

"What?" It was the only word Draco's tongue would form.

"You're up." Hermione sat up, a bottle of water in her hand. She tossed it to him. "Here." Draco caught the bottle, opened it, and chugged almost half of it in only a few seconds.

"Why am I out here?"

"I found you getting drunk out here."

"Well, then. Why are _you _here?" Hermione shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"I couldn't just leave you out here alone." Draco was baffled. Why did she even _care_? He'd been awful to her. He'd of expected her to leave him to choke on his own tongue. But she didn't.

"Thanks." Draco put his weight on his palms and leaned back.

"I..saw your note."

"You went through my things?"

"Yes?" Draco sighed and rolled his eyes comically.

"You're something else, Granger."

"Why were you drinking, Malfoy?" Hermione focused her eyes on him. He was taken aback by their intensity, the way her brown eyes seemed sparked by a fire as she looked clearly into his face. Her forehead in a deep crease, her lips pressed together gently. She looked honestly concerned.

"I was mad."

"At who?" Draco rolled his shoulders back.

"My dad. My mum. You."

"You were mad at _me_?"

"When am I _not_?"

"Good point."

"I don't even want to go to this stupid thing. But I have to."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"You're okay, Granger."

"Even though I'm a whore?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at him angrily.

"Erm…I'm sorry about that. I'm an asshole."

"You are. But you're an okay asshole, I suppose."

They didn't say much after that. They commented on the colors of the sky, tossed insults back and forth, but for the most part, silence exceeded their conversation. They both liked silence. And in that…the moment was perfect.

"The Weird Sisters were always a crappy band, Granger. They're even worse now." Draco used his quill to scratch the band's name off of the parchment in front of the pair, who were sitting in the library Wednesday night after tutoring.

"You've thrown out every idea I've given you. I'm dried up." Hermione slumped forward into the table.

"If I'm forced to plan this with you, I'm going to at least make sure it's entertaining. The last few year's celebrations couldn't even trump a good wank." Draco wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Hermione coughed.

"You're disgusting, Malfoy."

"What about _The Squibs_?"

"We won't get them with this short of notice. We need them in two weeks." Hermione frowned. Finding musical entertainment was proving to be more difficult than she'd anticipated.

"I don't even know why I'm trying," Draco rubbed his temples, "I'm not even going to be here."

"We'll figure this whole thing out before then. You won't have to go." Hermione pressed her hand against Draco's, making a lovely contrast. The pink of her skin overlapping the pale of his. Hermione realized where her hand was and yanked it away.

"Granger, can I tell you something?" Hermione looked up and nodded.

"What is it?"

"I think my Father is done with me. I think he wants me gone."

"You think he's going to disown you?" Draco shook his head furiously.

"No, I think he's going to kill me." He watched as the color drained out of Hermione's face.

"Would he do that? Why?" Hermione felt her heart being strangled by it's own beating. She couldn't understand why the idea of Malfoy dying pained her so. But it did. It killed her.

"We've never gotten on well. He's an ass. And, well, I'm an ass," Hermione let out a pained chuckle. "Anyway, it's not a good combination. We've never agreed on anything. And now, he has this son who can have a fresh start with. Mold to his liking."

"But that doesn't mean he'd _kill_ you, does it?" Draco nodded solemnly.

"You think he wants loose ends like that. You think you know my father, but you don't. He'd kill his own family if it's profited him."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know."

"Are you trying to gain my sympathy?" Hermione jutted out her lower lip, trying to stand strong.

"No."

"Because you won't get it. You've treated me like dirt since I was eleven. If you think that a few weeks of you being semi-civil to me is going to-"

"I never asked for your forgiveness. I don't want it."

"You don't feel bad for hating Harry, Ron, and I for no reason all these years?"

"I don't believe in regrets, Granger," Draco narrowed his eyes as her, "Maybe I was wrong in hating you. I sure as hell don't like you, Granger, but I don't hate you. But I will _always_ hate Potter and Weasley."

"You don't hate me?"

"You're all right for a mudblood."

"Well I don't hate you either. You're okay for a pompous and self-righteous Slytherin, I suppose."

"Eh…thanks?"

"You're…welcome."

They stand completely still, breath sucked into their lungs, waiting. Her brown eyes tremble in the concentration of his blue shockwave--looking at her with a mixture of dislike and understanding--looking directly at her, but also seeing right through her. His face is set, stone-hard, as thoughts seemed to rush right behind the veil of his eyes. She attempts to read his thoughts. Her knees shake, she feels sick to her stomach, she doesn't understand what he's _doing_. She blinks. He doesn't. What happens isn't a series of motions. It's one fluid act, like snow blanketing a field in the midst of spring--uninvited, unexpected, everything that's not ordinary or secure in it's own complacence. Neither one of them moves first. He doesn't grip her with need-filled want, she doesn't lunge into his arms. They just connect. Reaching for one another in their own loneliness. Two bodies crushing forward, hands fumbling, foreheads touching, lips meeting…all at once. Neither she nor he dislikes the feeling they get when kissing the other. Both are terrified at the ultimate act of adultery they are committing. They defy their flesh prisons, betraying everything they stand for, every judgment so firmly placed within their beings. They kiss. And when they stop, there are no words. No insults. No reassurances. No declaration of feelings. Because, in an honesty only seen in children, neither knows what they feel. Confusion. And a certain dependency. Their hands float apart, she biting her lip, he breathing deeply. A stunning distinction between what's real and isn't. And with no hero, she turns on one heel. With unadorned comprehension, he lets down all his towers. All his safely guarded judgments that protect him for the scornful world.

He watches her go. A slow-motion candor. An awakening in a green sweater. Her form fades into black, her pinkish glow melting into the darkness of night. For a few seconds, his eyes open. See what he's never seen. See what he's refused to see. And then she's gone. His lips are stinging. His clutches his bag. And as the dawn light begins to filter into the abandoned library, he closes his eyes again, replaces the blinders. And then he's gone.

_And so it is, just like you said it should be. We'll both forget the breeze, most of the time. And so it is, a colder water, the blower's daughter, the pupil in dead eyes, I can't take my eyes off of you. _

_- "Blowers Daughter" - Damien Rice _

_A/n: Tynan means "Dark Child". That's relevant. Please Review!_


	9. And Then They Were Flying

**A/N: Thanks again for those who read. I love the help you all give me!**

**Rilicious: Thank you. I want it to be believable, not just "lyke omg, ur so sXy. Kiss me!" Hehe. **

**Antanaqui: I looked up the name. I wanted to find something that would fit well along Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa. **

**Rkgrl: Thanks! Hey, I love adore it if you would let me know what parts have confused you. Then I can clear it up and tweak up the story to make it better! **

**Rose: Thanks for you sweet review. I love Damien Rice as well…I wrote that chapter w/ Blower's Daughter playing. **

**Morf21489: Thanks so much. I will try to keep it good! **

**Draco'sBlackRose: Actually, this story is set in 7th year, not 6th year. That's why the prologue was discussing graduation. Sorry if I wasn't too clear on that. Thanks for the review! **

**KriCketXO: I missed your reviews! Thanks for coming back, haha. **

**willow fairy: Hm, if you really want to see the cover, you can always reach me by email or aim…xxbuffyroxmysoxx…and I'll give you the link. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Cherbib161: Thanks for your review. That's exactly what I was going for with the kiss and it means so much to me that you noticed that. **

**Lilycarverjb: Thanks, you totally got that kiss, haha. Thanks again for reviewing!**

Hermione shoved a wriggling gummy worm into her mouth as she scratched out another name on her parchment, frowning. She swallowed the candy, gulping, and pulled her knees to her chest. It was midnight, two days before Halloween, and she had yet to make any real progress in the planning of the Halloween festivities. She found it slightly unfair that she'd been placed in charge of everything, while the Head Boy, a Ravenclaw she barely knew, had only been placed in charge of decorations. It wasn't like he couldn't just wave his wand and create them. Instead, the duties of food and music had been given to her and it couldn't have been going worse. Of course, she had Malfoy to help her, but he hadproven to be little more than a distraction. Ever since the moment--she still refused to recognize it as a kiss--they had shared in the library, their relations had been admittedly strained. He hadn't exactly been rude to her, but he hadn't been nice. He'd come to tutoring every day and he'd usually stay after in the library, researching his new familial addition, and they'd altogether abandoned Halloween. Hermione tossed down her quill. She'd tried everyone--from the popular rockstars, _The Squibs, _to the 80s musical sensation _Toil and Trouble. _Unfortunately, the overweight lead singer was busy planning his marriage to his 4th wife--a 20 something with unbelievably large breasts--and the drummer was in rehab for a cocaine addiction. Even with their retro feel, the band wouldn't be much with only a guitar player, a base player, and a couple of 45 year old groupies. Perhaps she could hire a cover band? At least there would be music. She shook her head, to no one but herself. The music would be crappy. And everyone knows that no music is better than crappy music. Giving up, Hermione crumpled up her parchment, tossed it onto the floor, and snuggled into her covers.

The coffee was bitter against the back of his throat as he gulped it down. It was an early Saturday morning and Draco was sandwiched between Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. "So, Draco," Pansy began from across the table, smoothing her lip-gloss with her pinky, "We never see you around anymore." Blaise Zabini, who was sitting next to Pansy and munching on toast nodded his head vigorously.

"Seriously, man. Where have you been?"

"You know Dumbledore fucked me over with all those punishments. Potter and Weasley got off clean and I got left with everything."

"Fuckin' hag needs to be replaced," Pansy ran a hang through her dishwater blonde hair, frowning. Crabbe and Goyle grunted in agreement.

"Speaking of hags," Blaise cleared his throat, "How is it? Working with the mudblood?" Draco didn't answer for a second.

"It's…awful. Pure torture." Blaise chuckled.

"I bet. Does she ever shut that big mouth of hers? She could put it to such better uses…" Pansy cackled at this remark.

"Yeah. Right, Blaise. Like she's ever done anything remotely sexual. She's the ice queen." Pansy and Blaise looked to Draco, waiting for his usual biting comment. He forced out an awkward chuckle.

"Unless she's fucking Potter and Weasley." Pansy squealed with joy, her face lighting up.

"Good one, Draco." Blaise reached over the table and clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling. Draco wasn't sure why, but the clap that normally would have left him feeling proud and powerful felt like a slap. Like he was being punished. He lowered his head, his head snaking out to grip his mug. And that's when his eyes connected with Granger's. He hated the connection they always seemed to make when their pupils met. It was magnetic. Her lips were in a tight frown, her eyebrows down turned. She looked…mad? Disappointed? Hurt? He watched as her eyes darted away from his and to the left of her, where Potter was sitting. Her fingers, tinier and daintier than he remembered, toyed with the ends of her hair as she listened intently to Potter. That was one thing about her…she listened. She didn't just look blankly, staring off into space, hearing every other word. She heard every word, every _syllable. _Even when he spoke, she seemed to block out every other sound and listen. He liked it. No one had ever listened to him in that way. Sure, the Slytherin gang listened to him. But it wasn't out of respect. It was in awe and fear. Granger didn't fear him, this he knew. She had a tendency to take the reins in every conversation and he found this incredibly strong. Even when they'd _kissed. _Draco took a gulp of his coffee, wincing. He had to stop thinking about _that. _

_Well, you're just across the street _

_Looks a mile to my feet _

_I wanna go to you_

_Funny how I'm nervous still_

_I've always been the easy kill_

_I guess I always will _

Hermione was in an awful mood. Tutoring had finally ended, after three grueling hours. She'd only had two prefects helping, as Malfoy had decided to skip out without even informing her. Now the library was deserted (as it had seemed to be so much lately) and she was stuck cleaning it all by herself. To make matters worse, three more bands had declined her offer to play at the following night's festivities. She had no idea what to do. Hogwarts was old and even though the magic world was finally catching onto the idea of portable music--with their own twists of course--the castle had no such luxuries. Hermione removed her robes and set them on her chair, then rolled up her sleeves. It was sweltering in the old library. Grimacing, she grabbed an old wet rag and began wiping down the tables. Just as she'd made her first wet streak upon the dusty table, the ethereal quiet was broken. She could hear pounding footsteps coming down the hallway. She didn't need to ponder who the intruder could be.

"Granger!" Draco Malfoy barked, rather forcefully, as he entered the library, his robes billowing out behind him.

"What?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, perplexed by Malfoy's sudden appearance.

"I have an idea for the music." Draco strode closer to her, sitting down on the table.

"Don't sit on the table," Hermione scolded, "And thanks for showing up today."

"I had better things to do. Do you want my idea or not?"

"Fine. What is it?"

"My Father bought me a Screecher 5 for my birthday." Hermione was familiar with the term. A Screecher 5 was a fairly modern introduction. It was the magically powered, non-electronic wizard version of a stereo system. The Screecher 5 was an amazing advancement, but very expensive. From what she'd heard, it made music sound live and responded to vocal commands.

"And?" Hermione folded her arms in front of her chest.

"We could use it here. It'd be better than any one hit wonder band, anyhow." Hermione nodded, slowly.

"True. What's the catch?" Draco smiled, feigning innocence.

"Catch? What catch?"

"I'm not stupid. What's the _catch_?"

"I need you to come to my Father's party tomorrow night. We can bring the system back with us. We'll be back before the festivities even start."

"Why do you want _me _to come, Malfoy? And what would your Father say? He hates me even more than you do!" Malfoy sighed.

"I have to bring a date. If I don't, I'll be forced to be glued to my father's side all night and I'll never get a good look at Tynan."

"So bring Pansy. Or _Layla._" Draco chuckled.

"They'd be glued to me all night as well. You're the only person I know that has any idea what's going on."

"Maybe."

"Don't be a bitch, Granger. It will get you your music, and me my answers."

"Do I catch an undertone of begging in that voice?"

"I will _not _beg!"

"Maybe not. But you _will _say please." Draco looked flabbergasted. He watched as Hermione smiled slyly, her hands on her hips. He felt his cheeks flush in frustration.

"Please." He spat it out, angrily.

"Please what?"

"Please come to Father's party, Granger."

"My name isn't Granger."

"Christ, woman! You're intolerable!"

"Just ask nicely. It isn't that hard."

"Please come to my Father's party…Hermione." Hermione smiled.

"See, it wasn't that hard."

"Was too." Hermione playfully punched Draco in the shoulder, laughing.

"So," Hermione sat down on the table next to him. "How am I going to go to this without your Father filleting me?"

"Well…it's Halloween, isn't it?"

_Could it be that everything goes 'round by chance?_

_Or only one way that it was always meant to be _

_You kill me, you always know the perfect thing to say _

_I know what I should do, but I just can't walk away _

"I…I..can't wear that!" Hermione sputtered, laughing. Malfoy was sitting across from her in the library, holding up a green garment

"Have anything better?" Hermione shook her head, taking the dress.

"But…I just _can't_, Malfoy."

"Draco, remember? You're supposed to be in Slytherin."

"Fine. But…I can't wear this. It's not me. At all."

"Yeah, and that's the beauty of it." Hermione stuck out her lower lip, pouting.

"Where'd you get this anyway? Have a secret you don't want daddy to find out?"

"It's Pansy's, Granger. It wasn't easy to borrow, either. I had to tell her my mum needs a dress." Hermione laughed.

"And she was dumb enough to believe that?"

"Naturally. Now do me a favor and go get changed. We need to leave soon." Hermione nodded, grabbed the costume from Draco and exited the library to change in the toilet.

As soon as Hermione stepped into the dress, she knew it was all wrong. It seemed odd to her that someone like Pansy Parkinson could own something so luxurious. Pansy always seemed unkempt, like she'd be accustomed to baggy sweaters...not a silky gown. Hermione stepped out of the stall and in front of a mirror. Pansy was obviously curvier than Hermione, so the dressed sagged a bit in the hips and bust, but it looked nice all the same. It was a deep forest green with black beading around the neckline. The top was a low v-cut, a style that made Hermione particularly uncomfortable. She had loosened the frizz of her hair into a wave once again and given it a deep side part. From the part, she'd French braided the first few inches of her hairline. She shifted her weight, feeling slightly uneasy in her shoes. She rarely ventured from flats, and when she did, the results were normally disastrous. She gripped the last piece of her costume--the mask. She slipped it over her head, tightening the strap in the back. It was a small mask; it only covered the lower region of her forehead and the upper bridge of her nose with eye-holes cut out. It was covered with the same green silk as the dress and encrusted with black onyx. She had to admit, it felt nice to be hidden under the secrecy of the mask. It made her feel…daring. She moistened her lips, took a deep breath, and exited the toilet.

"Not bad, Granger, not bad." Draco was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall, smirking. He was dressed in black dress slacks, a forest green button up, and a black tie.

"I feel stupid," she laughed, adjusting her mask, "And this thing itches like mad." Draco shrugged.

"We better get going." He gripped Hermione by the elbowing, yanking her behind him.

"Ouch! How are we getting there, anyway?"

_"Accio broomstick!"_ Draco stuck out his hand and his broom whipped around the corner and into his grip.

"Oh, no. No. I _don't _fly."

"Now you do."

"No. No. I can't!"

"Oh, stop Granger." Draco led the trembling girl over to a large window and settled the broom between his legs. "Sit behind me and wrap your arms around my waist." Hermione did just this, her nails digging into Malfoy's hipbones. The broom began to ease upwards and Hermione squealed. "Come on, it's not so bad."

"Yes, it is!" Draco lowered the broom.

"Granger, it's not that bad. You'll be fine." Hermione nodded into his back, pushing away the temptation to cry. The broom began to lift once again and Hermione felt her chest tightening.

"I'm scared."

"Don't be." They began to move forward out the window and Hermione's breathing started to become more erratic.

"Oh, God. Oh God." Hermione pressed her face into Draco's shoulder, whimpering slightly. She had never been so terrified in her entire life.

And then she felt it. A warmth so gentle she hadn't recognized it at first. Ever so slightly, Draco had slid his hand on top hers, cradling her clenched fingers until they relaxed.

And then they were flying.

_So go on love_

_Leave while there's still hope for escape_

_Gotta take what you can these days_

_There's so much ahead _

_So much regret _

_I know what you want to say _

_I know people can't help feeling differently_

_I loved you_

_and I should have said it _

_Tell me just what has it ever meant? _

To be continued…

A/N The lyrics are by Jimmy Eat World. Hope you enjoyed. Review, please!


	10. Good Night, Malfoy

**A/N: As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. Keep it up, please. Reviews are what keep my juices flowing. **

**Special Notes:**

**Yellowrosesinateacup: Thanks for your sweet review!**

The flight to Malfoy Manor was not long, and after two after two grueling hours on the broomstick, the rolling greens of the plantation and the lush stables in the field were a welcome sight to Hermione. As Draco began to let the broom decline, she dug her fingers tighter into the fabric of his button-up. Draco's hand hadn't moved once the entire trip, not even to itch. This revelation made her feel a mixture of emotions, she was confused but also content, she was afraid but also delighted. As they neared the ground and the Manor came into the view, she felt her chest tighten. As different as felt her in dress, she was just starting to realize that her very skin was a bulls-eye, that her face was a target for danger. If Mr. Malfoy recognized her--she couldn't even bear to imagine what might happen. Draco landed the broom softly against the grass and lay it down, adjusting his tie. Hermione smoothed her dress, which had bunched up around her hips, and sucked in a deep breath.

"Take it down a notch Granger, you look like you're about to faint," Draco gave her the once over, frowning.

"Look," Hermione began through gritted teeth, "If you were in my position, you'd be just as nervous, Malfoy."

"I _am _in your position." Draco glared at her for a minute before turning his head to the manor. "Come on, Granger." She nodded, swallowed, and followed him toward the house.

Malfoy Manor was a large, bucolic house, one that seemed full of history and character. It's outer-shell was white with green accents and even though the paint was starting to peel, it managed to look elegant. It was house that seemed far too worn for a family of sophistication, like the Malfoys. A veranda encircled the house. Hermione smiled and imagined sitting on the veranda, iced tea in hand, and watching the sun go down. Once again, a far too romantic touch to the seemingly cold Malfoy way. As the two clambered up the steps, each one creaking with the weight, the front door opened slowly.

"Master Malfoy!" A round women with curly red hair ran towards him, arms outstretched.

"Hello Greta. How's the house been?" Draco gave the woman a quick embrace.

"Your father's been in quite the delightful mood lately." Draco turned to Hermione and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Greta, this is Layla Wilkins, my date for the evening. Layla, this is Greta, our housekeeper." Hermione winced. Layla? Draco certainly hadn't discussed this choice of name with her. Hermione gently shook Greta's hand, smiling warmly.

"It's nice to meet you, Greta." The woman nodded jovially and beckoned them into the home.

The interior was just a rustically charming as the exterior. It's wallpaper, gently peeling from the corners of the walls, was a green, and white floral print and the hardwood floors were dark and shiny. The furniture seemed antique as well, and this made Hermione feel at home. Her mother had a certain affinity for antique stores.

"This is lovely." Hermione's eyes scanned the entryway, taking everything in."It was built in the late19th century. Most of the furniture is authentic."

"Wow. It's quite large."

"Ten bedrooms, not including servants quarters." Draco tugged her at the crook of the arm. "Time to meet father." Hermione's breath caught in her chest. She followed Draco through the front hallway, through a sitting room, and into a large ballroom filled with people. The ballroom was stunning, all mahogany wood and gold adornments. Lucius was standing towards the double doors, talking quietly with another man.

"Father." Draco approached his father, forcing a nervous smile.

"Draco. You made it." Lucius squeezed Draco's shoulder, smiling tightly. "Raquel, you remember my son, Draco?" The man nodded. "And who are you?" Lucius raised his eyebrows as he inspected Hermione's petite form.

"This is Layla," Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her in, "she's a sixth year in Slytherin."

"Ah. What's your surname?"

"Uh, Wilkins, sir."

"Wilkins? Your mother and father didn't tell me you'd be here. Are they aware?" Hermione chewed her lip nervously, before Draco elbowed her, urging her to speak.

"Eh..no. It was a last minute thing, Mr. Malfoy."

"I'm sure they'll be pleased to see you. I've heard quite a bit about you. I believe they're across the room. I'll get them."

"Oh, no. That's all right."

"Don't be silly. I'll be right back." Lucius held up one finger and turned to fetch Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins.

"You couldn't just make up a name?" Hermione was glaring at Draco, hands placed on her hips.

"I didn't know they'd be here. Let's go." Draco and Hermione dashed out of the ballroom, panting.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione was glancing nervously around.

Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and tapped it against his thigh for a second, thinking. "Oh, no. I'm not letting you do magic on me."

"If you don't, Granger, we won't pull this off."

"Fine…fine. But if you turn me into a toad or something, I'll kill you!"

"Yeah, how? By ribbiting me to death?"

"Ha-ha. Very funny." Draco pulled out his wand.

"_Formius Vimal Wilkins Layla." _A purple light spanned from the tip of his wand and Hermione could feel her shape changing. Her skin seemed to stretch as she grew a few inches and her chest expanded. She was now an exact replica of Layla Wilkins.

"That's an advanced glamour! How do you even know how to do that?"

"Being in my family has a few advantages," Draco slipped his wand back into his pocket, "Now go fast and make nice. The spell doesn't last long, only fifteen minutes or so."

"How do I act?"

"I don't know. Just act like Layla does." Draco gestured toward the double doors.

"Okay…so I should giggle inanely and flaunt my breasts?"

"Exactly." He gripped her hand and tugged her in the ballroom after him.

"Son, we've been looking for you two!" Lucius approached them, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins in tow.

"Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad." Hermione smiled up at the two blondes. Lucius was looking at her strangely.

"Did you change, my dear?" Lucius was eyeing her.

"I took my hair down." She smiled that overly large smile and she could imagine her teeth gleaming in the candlelight.

"Layla, you didn't tell us you'd be here!" Mrs. Wilkins leaned down and gave Hermione two kisses to each cheek.

"I just found out, mum." Mrs. Wilkins giggled and slapped a hand playfully to her husband's chest.

"Oh, Chester. I don't think she's called me Mum since she was seven or eight. I'm so used to Diana. It sounds foreign."

"I guess Hogwarts has left me feeling nostalgic." Layla's parents looked utterly perplexed at Hermione's words. Perhaps Layla didn't normally speak three syllable words?

"Well, Layla, I guess that must be it," Chester rubbed his hand across her back, "I had no idea you knew Draco." Chester winked, grinning.

"Oh, we're old friends." Draco ran a hand down Hermione's blonde hair. "You have quite the lovely daughter."

"She does have a fair face," Diana smiled softly, "Just like me years ago."

"I think Draco and I are going to see the baby." Hermione pressed the toe of her heels against Draco's ankle. "Bye!" She waved to them, cheerily, and pulled Draco after her.

"That was humiliating."

"I don't think you dumbed yourself down enough," Draco said critically. The pair approached the crib, which was situated in the corner of the ballroom. A crowd was gathered around it. Draco pushed through to the bassinet, which was clad in black silk. He and Hermione peered over the edge, curiously. Tynan looked normal enough. A plain baby, if not a bit chubby. A thin layer of blonde hair covered his head. His eyes were brown, so dark they seemed black.

"No one in my family has brown eyes," Draco noticed. "We all have blue or green." Tynan cooed and Hermione couldn't help but be in awe of the child. He was dressed in a black gown, much like a baptismal outfit. Draco pointed his finger at Tynan and he gripped it tightly, smiling. Draco pushed the edge of the gown upwards, inspecting. Nothing. Just lots of smooth baby pudge. He checked the head. Normal. He pushed up the right sleeve of the baby's gown. Normal. He slid up the left sleeve of the gown. Normal. Except for the hint of black he could see peeking from the edge of the pushed up sleeve. He pushed it up further and felt his heart begin to beat faster. A tattoo shone mockingly against the baby's pale shoulder, it's black ink deeply entombed in the flesh. The symbol was one he didn't recognize, which surprised him, because he was fascinated with symbols and signs. It was a circle, the interior containing an upside down cross, the exterior surrounded by 6 pairs of snake eyes. The ink was black, save for the pupils of the eyes, which were a deep red.

"Creepy." Hermione whispered.

"Have you ever seen anything like it?" Hermione shook her head apologetically.

"I don't need to write it down. That thing is imprinted in my mind forever."

"I agree."

"Well at least we have something to go on."

"I have a feeling that isn't such a good thing." Draco's voice was grave. Hermione reached down, her fingers grazing across Tynan's smooth cheek. Tynan made an angry squeal, gripped her finger, and bit down. Hard. Blood oozed from tiny teeth marks on her pointer finger and she felt tears welling in her eyes.

"Fuck. Let's get that bandaged." Draco put his arm around her shoulder, a gesture that Hermione found surprisingly intimate, and led her out of the ballroom. He escorted her down a main hallway and into a sitting room.

The room was decorated in lush greens and golds and a large family portrait festooned a fairly bare wall above a roaring fireplace. The wallpaper was green and intricate designs of plated gold covered it. Three plush antique chairs, a green chaise lounge, and a bottle green love seat were situated around a mahogany coffee tables. The room was little by candles that hung from the walls of the room, three in each wall. Draco gestured for Hermione to sit down. She sank into the center of the loveseat, burying her heels in the emerald carpet. Draco peered into a closet nearby and began rummaging through it, throwing several items into a basket. He returned to her, the basket swinging from his wrist.

"Here," Draco handed her a wet cloth that had been dipped in rubbing alcohol. She took it, recoiling.

"I can't do this," Hermione whimpered. She could feel her body beginning to take it's familiar shape and the sensation was making her quite dizzy. Plus, she'd never been good at inflicting pain on anyone, including herself.

"Wimp," he took the cloth from her trembling fingers.

"Just do it, okay?" Draco nodded, happy to oblige with Hermione's request and pressed the cloth against her wound. She squealed, biting her bottom lip. Draco moved it slightly, mopping up the caked blood and attempting to clean the bite. "Are you all right?" Draco removed the cloth and dropped it into the basket.

"Fine."

"Well, you were screeching like you were going to die, Granger." Draco smirked and pulled out a gauze pad and a roll of athletic tape. He pressed the pad against her finger and Hermione could feel blood moistening it. He held it down and wrapped the tape around it several times, then ripped the end and stuck it down. "All better."

"Thanks." Draco just shrugged as he cleaned up his supplies and carried them back to the closet. "Malfoy?" He spun around.

"Yes?"

"Can we get the music and go back now? I mean, you saw the tattoo and you made an appearance…" Malfoy nodded. He was itching to get back to Hogwarts and look up Tynan's markings in the library. "Okay. It's seven o'clock and I need to get to the house elves to…fuck!"

"That's nasty, Granger."

"I forgot the food! I can't believe this!" Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead. How had she forgotten? She hadn't made a meal plan for the house elves. Even if she got one last minute, it would be too late for the elves to get any of the ingredients.

"Oh, good one, Granger." Malfoy felt a chuckle rising in his throat. All the fuss about the music and she'd forgotten the food?

"Everyone will be so angry. We have to go _now._ Maybe…if we go fast…" Hermione looked to Draco for some sort of answer, but he had moved from her, and was now standing at the window, peering his head through the curtains.

"Granger…I think you better come here," Draco said without turning around. Slowly, she padded over to him. He pushed the curtains further apart and she felt a cry rising in her throat. It was a torrential downpour outside. Thunder, lighting…the works.

"We can't fly in this…" she felt her heart sinking as tears filled her eyes. Hogwarts Halloween was ruined.

"We're going to need to stay here tonight, I'm afraid." Hermione nodded. A few tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Oh, stop your whimpering, girl. Come on. If we get you to a room now, my father won't even notice we stayed. He'll pour himself into bed around 4am, drunk as fuck." Hermione nodded, and followed Draco numbly.

She lost track of where she was going in the manor after going up two winding staircases and down several corridors. He led her up one last staircase, an extremely steep and narrow one, at which there was a door at the top. The door was painted a stark white, the paint peeling, and the spaces between the boards evident. Draco twisted the doorknob and guided Hermione into the room. The detaching wallpaper was white with pink and green flowers, and the wood floor was painted a cream color. Two twin beds sat against the walls, across the room from each other. In between the two was a small nightstand with a vase of daises. Next to one bed, a large dresser sat, base to a tiny, flickering candle.

"Extra servants quarters," Draco explained. "It's the only place I know Greta won't clean. She sleeps downstairs."

"Do you have anything I can sleep in?" Hermione was starting to feel confined in her dress.

"Um," Draco paused for a second, "Check the dresser. There might be some overflow clothes from my mum." Hermione crept over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Sure enough, clothes were folded neatly inside. She rummaged though the drawer for a second, before pulling out a long, pink nightgown. She spun around to glare at Draco.

"Turn around."

"I wouldn't want to look at your dirty flesh anyway, mudblood."

"What did I say about calling me that?" Draco didn't answer, only turned around and placed his hands over his eyes. Hermione slipped out of her dress, heels, and mask, and set them on the floor next to the bed. She pulled the satin nightgown over her head, the fabric feeling delicate against her bare skin. "Okay. All done." As Draco spun around, she realized he was wearing only a pair of boxers. "Put your clothes on, Malfoy!" She sputtered.

"I'm not sleeping in my clothes. And I'm sure as hell not wearing one of my mother's nightgowns."

"Then get under the covers--now!" Draco nodded and slipped under the white knit of his blanket, pulling it under his armpits. "Much better." Hermione climbed into her bed and under the covers. Hermione leaned up and blew out the candle.

"Hey, Granger?" The cool voice of Malfoy spoke after several minutes of silence.

"Yes?"

"Good night."

"Good night, Malfoy."

_Feel the rain on your skin, no one else can feel it for you, only you can let it in, no one else can speak the words on your lips, drench yourself in words unspoken, live your life with arms wide open, today it where your book begins…the rest is still unwritten. _

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I've been writing this from my family reunion, on my laptop. We're staying in this old 19th century house. My room is the old servants quarters and it inspired me, hee hee. Review, please!**


	11. Il Marchio di Malvagio

**A/N: As usual, thanks for your reviews. It really means the world to me that you take the time to tell me your opinions and suggestions. **

**Special Notes:**

**willow fairy: Thanks for pointing out that mistake. I guess traveling makes my grammar go crazy…**

**Draco'sBlackRose: Thanks for your review. I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

**Darktwistedpoet: I don't plan on making Hermione sick from the bite. We'll find out more about that soon. I made his eyes so different to differentiate from the Malfoy blue--to make a contrast that he is very different from Draco, not to imply he is evil. Eyes like are gorgeous, you lucky one! **

**golden lion: What a wonderful compliment, just what I love to hear. Thank you so much.**

**Rilicious: I got home last night at 2am from my flight and first thing checked my email. It's kind of pathetic, haha. **

**Yellowrosesinateacup: Thanks! You are an awesome reviewer. **

**Antanaqui: Narcissa drowning the baby would have made things a lot easier--but that would be no fun. evil laugh **

**Yomiko Clone: Thanks! I am sorry you are busy/tired/sick. Hope it all calms down for you. **

**She was frozen. Digging her toes deeper into the knit blanket, Hermione shivered. She rubbed her eyes gently, her arms covered in goosebumps. She could see, in the darkness, the silhouette of Draco, his slim torso haphazardly covered by the thin sheet. His chest was rising slowly with each deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering as he dreamed. She sat up, scooting back against the wall and sighed. Her sleep had been substandard, marred by the frequent, ghosting images of Lucius Malfoy and Tynan. She stood, the floor boards creaking, and ran a hand through her hair. A freezing sweat had stuck her curls to her cheeks and forehead. Claustrophobia overcame her senses as she peered about the room. She made a beeline for the door, silently creaking it open, and slipped out unnoticed. **

Hermione wandered the halls, hoping desperately that she wouldn't stumble upon a maid, a house elf, or even Lucius. She was placing her life on the fact that Draco had said he'd be drunk in bed by this hour. Her bare feet felt cold against the smooth floor as she explored various rooms--a bathroom that rivaled the Prefect's, a contemporary-looking office, and finally a library. The library was much simpler than any room she'd come across thus far. Almost too simple--like the room didn't want to attract any unwanted attention. Apart from the bookshelves lining the four walls and a leather couch in the center of the room, it was devoid of much else. Hermione ran her fingertips along the bindings of the books, smiling. Books were her comfort above all else. Books were finite, they didn't play guessing games. She pulled a thick, hard-cover book from the shelf and held it tightly in her grasp. _Hogwarts, A History. _She smiled softly. The book's presence had warmed her to the core, making her feel a little bit less foreign in the Malfoy Manor. She slid it back into the shelf and continued her walk down the shelves, inspecting the books. Most of the books were ones she'd seen before, many of them being novels from the restricted section of the library.

Hermione took a few steps back and sat down on the leather couch, crossing her legs. Something was amiss in the library…she could feel it. Her eyes scanned the bookshelves searching for something to tip her off. She only saw the binding of books…some worn and some new. And then she saw a row of six or seven books that looked neither new nor old. In fact, they didn't even look _real_. Hermione stood and crept over to the row, peering closely at them. She pressed her hand against the book, not surprised to find that it was actually a skillfully painted canvas. She gripped the edges of it and pulled gently. It was locked down by a two tiny silver locks attaching the top and bottoms of the painting to the wood. She pulled out her wind from the chest pocket of her nightgown. "_Alohomora." _She whispered and the two locks clicked open. She lifted the canvas up and set it on the floor. The picture seemed to have been hiding a row of used books. She grabbed the first one and opened it, flipping to an earmarked page. The symbol that had marred Tynan's smooth skin was splayed across the page in full color, a small caption beneath it.

_Il marchio di malvagio is a direct translation from an Italian prophecy circa 1403. It prophesized a birth of evil, seventeen years subsequent to a birth of divine good. Many scholars have dedicated their life's work to the study of this symbol, either in awe or terror of it's meaning. Most experts agree that the symbol will represent a figure that will be dedicated to destroying all non-pureblood life forms. _

She could feel her breath catching in her throat. Tynan, the cooing baby in the bassinet the night before, a terror? Slamming the book shut, she returned it to the shelf and began to scan the other books for any information. It was then that she heard muffled footsteps in the hallway. She replaced the painted canvas, not finding time to lock it, and dashed behind the opened door, desperate for a hiding place. Just second after she'd hidden her form, two men sauntered into the room. One, she didn't recognize. The other was Lucius Malfoy, his piercing eyes watching the other man like a hawk. They sounded as if they were arguing.

"You know very well I don't like loose ends, Harris. He's a danger to the family!" Harris shuffled on his feet a bit and swallowed.

"I know, Lucius. He didn't mold quite as well as we'd all…_hoped_."

"He's downright defiant. He refused my invitation last summer. It's an honor to be asked to join the Death Eaters as such a young age and he about spat in my face. It's that Dumbledore's doing. He's trying to turn my son into a sniveling do-gooder,"

"Tynan won't need to go to Hogwarts, sir," Harris piped in, his voice hoarse.

"And for that, I am glad. I won't place a special boy like him under the nose of Dumbledore."

"A disgrace," chortled Harris, "An utter abomination. What are you plans for the other, Lucius?"

"Keeping him around is much too dangerous. The Dark Lord won't have that at all. He knows too much. I kept him around after his refusal to join us only in the vain hope that he'd change his mind. But now…" Lucius trailed off, a grim smile gracing his lips.

"Of course, Sir. I'll get someone on it."

"No. No. I think this is a personal assignment." Lucius was rubbing his chin. "That's all, Harris. You may go." Harris let out a relieved breath of air and departed. . Lucius remained for only a few minutes before he too turned and exited the library.

Hermione fearfully stayed in place for another few minutes before creeping her way back to the attic room.

"Where _were _you?" Draco whispered as Hermione shut the door behind her trembling figure.

"I was...wandering."

"Wandering? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"That's not any matter, Malfoy. The symbol--I know what it means."

"What? How?"

"Your father has a secret stash of books in his library. I found it in one those. It's called _il marchio di malvagio. _It supposedly marks an evil child, born roughly seventeen years after the birth of a _good _child. The child is thought to be made to, God forbid it, purge the world of non-purebloods."

"I suppose the prophecy is in reference to that damn Potter again?" Hermione nodded.

"I think so. It makes perfect sense, doesn't it?"

"Tynan bit you."

"Yes, yes he did. And he nuzzled you. Perhaps he _knew _I'm a muggle-born."

"You're saying this kid can _sense _the blood of a wizard?"

"Yes. It all fits together."

"This is all too much, Granger." Draco sat back on his bed and Hermione joined him.

"There's something else, Draco."

"Why did you just call me Draco?" He brought his eyes up to meet hers. Her brown eyes looked remarkably dark as she stared him down.

"I heard your father talking to some man named Harris. I think…I think he may harm you." Hermione frowned, deep crease lines marring her forehead. To her surprise, Draco's face didn't register a look of fear or shock. It didn't even seem to have a change of emotions.

"I'm not surprised." He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Did you really refuse membership of the Death Eaters?" Hermione felt the question roll off of her tongue before she had a change to stop it.

"Yes. Shocked?" Hermione nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. But, honestly, why would I want to do that? A bunch of lunatics they are. Plenty of them are highly respected, rich…why do they feel the need to throw away a perfectly good life" Death Eaters are after a cause even _I _know is impossible. They all just end up dead, in hiding, or in Azkaban. I was made for better things."

"I understand." She didn't think much before she leaned forward. She didn't plan it all out in her head. She just leaned forward, pressed her lips chastely against his, and that was that. It wasn't full of grandeur or passion, but it wasn't cold either. It was warm, safe, bemused. And when she pulled back, her tiny hands falling to grasp his, he wasn't frowning. His mouth was pressed together, the corners slightly upturned as he considered her face.

"You keep kissing me." He whispered huskily, their faces still so close that she could feel his hot breath fanning on her nose.

"You kissed me last time." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I think you find me attractive, Granger." He leaned in, pressed a warm kiss below her ear, and squeezed her hand. "I don't blame you."

Hermione snuggled deep into her bed sheets, afraid to venture down into the common room. The backlash for her Halloween messup had been worse than she'd imagined--as she and Draco had entered the Great Hall, she'd been met with icy, cold stares. Even the professors seemed relatively annoyed that she'd ruined their Halloween festivities. Even worse, she couldn't give much of an explanation to anyone. The only people speaking to her at the moment were Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Draco. Of course, Ginny, Ron, and Harry had been disappointed about the whole thing, but they'd been kind to Hermione. Ron had been the only one to pry. He'd heard the news that she'd arrived with Draco and this was the part that had him fuming. Nonetheless, he was being perfectly civil to her. The rest of the Gryffindors, however, were another story. Lavender and Pavarti had been whispering nasty things about her all week and refused to speak to her. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan had resorted to stealing her books whenever she left her things alone in the common room and spreading rumors behind her back. Due to the backlash, Hermione rarely ventured from the dormitory. She only left for mealtimes, classes, and to tutor in the library.

Hermione found it humorous that her only true confidant at the moment was Draco Malfoy. If someone had told her this only six months ago, she would have laughed in their face and told them to lay off the firewhisky. However, it was true. Ever since their escapade at the Malfoy Manor, he'd been perfectly nice to her. He was, of course, his cocky self, but he had spent less time directing it towards her and more time at Harry or Ron. They hadn't shared any more _moments_, but she caught herself wishing they had. She wasn't sure why, but the kiss they had shared in the attic had become tattooed in her brain as the last time she was happy since everything started. To top it off, Draco hadn't seemed nearly as worried as she was about his father's plans. He was more preoccupied with the concept of Tynan, doing all the research they could. So far, they hadn't expanded much on what Hermione had learned in the library, but he seemed to think it was worth a try. She found herself more worried with the idea of Draco's safety and was constantly watching around them, paranoid, when they sat alone in the library.

She leaned back into the pillows of her four-poster, sighing. She couldn't wait until everyone stopped hating her. That was, _if _they stopped hating her.

"Draco," Hermione was standing in the doorway of his dormitory, tears welling in her eyes. It was to his happiness to find the dorm was empty of it's usual occupants. She was dressed in her nightclothes, her hair in two plaits as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" He felt himself asking.

"No," she sat down on his bed, frowning.

"Spit it out." She stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, hands wringing the hem of her white nightgown before finally speaking.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me." She gripped his cheeks, her palms pressing heavily on his chiseled cheekbones. He obliged, crashing his lips against hers. The warmth of her mouth against his, hot and wet, was like an explosion. He grabbed her and in one fluid motion, pulled her body into his lap. He ran his finger through her silky hair as her hands explored the muscles of his back.

"Fuck." He mumbled the words as he playfully suckled on her lower lip, enjoying the feel of their bodies molded against one another. As one hand caressed her cheek, the other moved to push up the hem of her nightgown, the tips of his fingers free to explore. He ran them gently along the plane of her belly, in awe of the velvety skin he found there.

"Draco…" she whispered his name softly as he flattened his hand out against her abdomen.

"I love you." He felt himself saying this into her hair, his heart swelling to an incredible intensity. "God, I love you."

Draco jerked up, his forehead narrowly missing the knob of his four poster. He was drenched in an icy sweat, his heart throbbing madly. And then, it all came back to him. The dream that had made him react so. He drew his knees to his chest, rubbing his temples in a frustrated attempt to forget. _Oh fuck…_

_**A/N: Thanks for reading, again. Please--if you are reading this story and enjoying or hating…let me know. Review! It's the only way I can get better. Don't be a lurker--click the review button. **_


	12. Bipolar, Much?

**A/N: Don't own Harry Potter. I'm just playing around! Thanks for all reviews!**

**Special Notes To Chapter 11 Reviewers: **

**Krickette, strawberry, torn through, sun kissed, lilprincess, unspotted giraffe, yellowroses, southern belle, blonde jenny, soul chaser, ami mizuno: Well thanks! All such sweet reviews! **

**Christy: Thanks for not giving up on me. You know, I'm not sure what we'll do with Narcissa. I'll see. **

**Coffee and chocolate: Thanks, that was a really thoughtful review. It made me smile. **

**Cherbi161: As always, thanks for your review. Maybe Draco's dream will come true…maybe not. Oh, hell, we all know the truth. It's a D/Hrm fanfic!**

**Darktwistedpoet: Maybe not a premonition…but a foreshadowing…**

**Antanaqui: Thanks again for a wonderful review. I'm glad it's unfolding well, haha. **

**Willowfairy: Unfortunately, that was a dream. Let's hope it soon becomes reality! **

**Heyjude: It's nice to have a new reader. I am glad you are enjoying!**

"We've got to tell Dumbledore!" Hermione urged, wringing the hem of her robes in her hands.

"No, we don't." Draco's voice was cold and deep as he narrowed his eyes in on Hermione's panicked face.

"But you're in danger." She leaned forward gripping Draco's shoulder, her eyes beginning to tear.

"I know. You really think _Dumbledore_ can help me now?"

"Of course he can. Dumbledore's _really _powerful, you know." Hermione had removed her hands from Draco's shoulder, sinking back down into the library chair, groaning.

"I don't think it's a good idea to take action right now. You don't know my father, Granger."

"I know." Hermione slumped down, frowning. Then, the defeated expression on her face morphed to rage. "I don't know why you won't let me help you, Malfoy." She stood, her whole body tense. "It's like you don't even care." She spun on her heel and stomped out of the library, too enraged to hear Draco's response.

"I don't!" He called after her, his voice slightly distorted by the stone walls.

Pavarti tossed her shiny black plait behind her back as she leaned into Lavender, whispering. Hermione could barely make out several insulting terms beneath her breath as she plopped down on her bed, books in hand. Lavender giggled for a second, turning her head to Hermione and shooting daggers with her eyes.

"Hermione," Lavender's expression changed to a docile one as she smoothed out her long, blonde hair.

"Yes?" Hermione slipped out of her robes and tossed them on to the bed.

"Is it true?"

"Is _what _true?" Hermione wasn't sure why she was playing along with Lavender's little game, but she felt an intense urge _not _to be silent like usual.

"That you're _shagging _Hagrid for good marks?"

"Lav, that's disgusting."

"Ernie MacMillian told me he saw you going in to his cabin and coming out a few minutes later looking ruffled," Pavarti added, smiling wickedly.

"If either of you _had _a brain, you would know I would never do that, and it's probably physically impossible to do so," Hermione took a deep breath, gulping. "Plus, I don't _need_ to shag anyone for good marks, unlike you two." Lavender and Pavarti stared at Hermione, wide-eyed, mouths formed into little 'o' shapes. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed." Hermione slid under her sheets, yanking them up around her chin without even changing into her pajamas.

Hermione didn't dare let the tears pricking her eyes fall. That would only give those nasty girls the satisfaction they wanted. She was just so…frustrated. Not only was she being blamed entirely for the Halloween mess, but she had Draco's life to worry about. Even _he _didn't seem to care. She didn't understand it--that she could spend every night sweating the idea of his father brutally murdering him, while he could be so blasé about the whole thing. Then there was the matter of _why. _Why did she even care about Malfoy's life? He was rude, arrogant, womanizing--all the qualities she despised in a person. But none of these things seemed to matter, because none of them could overpower all the traits she now admired within him. He had a confidence that she envied. He carried himself in a way that she longed to be able to do. His own self-belief fascinated her. He was a creature of contradiction and she couldn't get enough.

Hermione could hear someone get up to blow out the candles and the room was flooded with darkness. She could barely make out someone whispering "Goodnight, _Whore_mione," before drifting off to sleep.

_Son, _

_Tynan's acceptance ball will be on December 31st. It begins sharply at nine. Be in my office at eight-thirty. Don't bring a date this time, boy. _

_-Lucius _

Draco laughed dryly as he shoved the letter into his pocket. Short, cold, void…as per usual of his father's letters. He knew exactly what acceptance ball meant, although his father would probably have not wanted him to. Ever since the age of nine, his father had been pressing the idea of a ball for Draco with all of Lucius's "friends". Every year, Draco had declined the offer. Now, it seemed, his father has wised up and decided to have his son accepted before he could refuse. Not that a baby bearing the 'symbol' would refuse. What his father liked to brand "acceptance balls" were truly just a get-together of Death Eaters welcoming a new inductee. His father's snobby persona called for the title "ball" which instructed each attendee to dress up, but other than that, these gatherings were a far cry from a ball. There was no dancing, no laughing, no food. It was just chanting, ceremonies, and muggle-bashing. Except for the latter, Draco found these things repulsive. His largest concern was to that of why his father had invited him. It was either a ploy to rub the issue of Tynan in his face one last time before his father wiped him out, or it was the actual event of his murder. Draco didn't care much either way--he'd be going to the 'ball'. He wouldn't run in cowardess like so many before him--that would only make him more like a Death Eater.

Draco shifted his thoughts to the second, unopened letter in his palm. This one was bearing the purple stamp of his mother's institution. He considered it for a minute before opening it with apprehension. The writing with smudged, almost every other sentence scratched out and restarted, and was in large, feminine handwriting.

_Draco, _

_Don't listen to the lies. It isn't safe. Tangled webs, my son, tangled webs. _

_Love Always, _

_Your Mother. _

Draco frowned. What did his mother know? He carefully folded the parchment, placed it in his pocket and slumped forward into his knees. He was in his usual spot, sitting in the Slytherin stands of the Quidditch pitch and a slight snow was beginning to sprinkle gently on the grass. Tonight was to be the first game he and Potter were both back in Quidditch, and Slytherin and Gryffindor were playing one another. He couldn't wait to win--winning was something he'd missed dearly in the past few weeks. He wondered where Granger was--he hadn't seen her since their "argument" in the library days ago. Draco had caught glimpses of her in classes and mealtime, of course, but she'd entirely avoided him at tutoring. Ever since he'd had that jarring dream, he couldn't get her out of his head. He was finding it impossible to deny that he had feelings for her that weren't entirely bad. She was a mudblood, sure, but she was also intelligent, feisty, and kind. She was a for-sure partner in verbal sparring, something he deeply appreciated. It was impossible to fight with Pansy because he always won. It was nice to have a challenge. He stared up at the darkening sky, frowning. Was it possible that he missed her? That he cared?

"Draco." A body clad in a black sweater and jeans sat down next to him, her voice flat and distant.

"Granger. Where've you been?"

"Avoiding my punishment for _ruining _Halloween."

"If it's any consolation, the Slytherins are happy it didn't happen. We're not big fans of Hogwarts balls."

"Well they already hate me for being…well, me. So it's not much solace, sorry." Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears, breathing the cool air into her lungs.

"Well, _I _don't hate you. And I'm sure Potter and Weasley don't hate you."

"They don't. But it doesn't matter since I spend all my spare time avoiding Ron." Draco didn't answer for a few seconds, he only rubbed his chin slowly.

"Ah. Weasel's got a thing for you, does he?" Hermione laughed darkly.

"Apparently."

"Good job."

"On what?" Draco had leaned into Hermione, smiling playfully at her confused expression.

"Avoiding him." Draco nodded as if it were most simple thing in the world to comprehend and patted Hermione's knee gently.

"Not it's not. I feel awful."

"You're too good for him." Draco stated.

"What?" Hermione uncurled, spine ramrod straight, her eyes wide and bright.

"I said, _you're too good for him._"

She could feel cold snow moistening her cheeks as he kissed her. Or, rather, she kissed him. Or they kissed one another. She titled her face down into his as their lips pressed against one another's, Draco's warm breath fanning against her pinkened cheeks. Hermione's senses were overloaded by the contradictions overwhelming her body. Draco's arms had eclipsed her tiny figure as he took her in, his sweater soaking wet, but warm at the same time. He kissed her deeper than he had before, the action bursting a thousand colors before her closed eyes. It was a little bit rough, a little bit tender, a little bit giving, a little bit demanding. It was a little bit…_wonderful_. Hermione felt her form liquefying, vanishing into the body now holding her. Draco's kiss was intense, like he was trying to suck her soul right from her core. She leaned back into the bleachers, the cool wood digging into her shoulder blades, his hands caressing her sides. He pulled away, just a centimeter, his lips lingering over hers, wanton. He leaned in once more, pecked her bee-stung lips, and then pulled away completely, skimming his hands over her shoulders.

"And I suppose you are?" Hermione mumbled as soon as she'd collected her thoughts and emotions from the ground.

"Are what?"

"_Good enough_?" Draco dipped his head down, his lips alarmingly close to her left ear and whispered.

"Precisely."

"But I'm not, am I?"

"Aren't what? Christ, woman, stop talking in riddles, I'm still a bit off guard."

"Aren't good enough. I'm just a _mudblood, _right?" Hermione's eyes darkened with her statement and she briefly looked like she might cry.

"I never said that." And he kissed her once again. Softly, on her left cheek, just above her jaw.

_It sounds like a song, it hits you like scripture. You paint the picture with color squeezed from your hand. _

Hermione sat silent in the bleachers, Ginny talking excitedly in her ear.

"Ooh, look at Ron! Don't you think he's improved?" Ginny gushed, her eyes following Ron's flying figure on the Quidditch field.

"Yes." Hermione muttered softly, her eyes following Draco's speeding figure as he searched for the snitch.

"Hello?" Ginny tapped roughly on Hermione's forehead, her voice annoyed. "Anyone alive in there?"

"I'm here. Sorry. I'm just really tired," Hermione lied. She watched as Harry dodged a Bludger, wincing. "Close one, Harry," She said under her breath.

"You've been really…distant, lately. We've all noticed it. Mainly, Ron." Ginny added.

"What do you mean, 'Mainly, Ron'?" Hermione frowned. If she had to hear about Ron's crush one more time…

"I mean, he's been trying to get you alone to ask you…on a date." Ginny giggled, running a hand through her straight crimson strands.

"Ugh." Hermione slapped her forehead, moaning loudly. Dean whipped his head around and shot her angry look, as if to say 'Shut up!'.

"I take it you don't return the feelings?"

"I'm sorry, Gin, but I don't. I wish I did. It would make this all so much easier."

"He's going to be heartbroken, Hermione."

"I know." Hermione found her eyes magnetized to Draco's form once again and she smiled.

"Who did you just smile at?"

"No one, Ginny."

"That was a 'someone' smile. Don't lie to me!" Ginny squeezed Hermione's arm, raising her eyebrows.

"It's none of your business whom." Hermione pulled her gold and burgundy scarf tighter around her neck.

"It's not Harry, is it?"

"Of course not."

"And we both know it's not Ron. Is it Dan?"

"He's way too young, Ginny."

"Well, it's a Gryffindor, right?" Hermione twisted her lips, trying to look innocent. Ginny's mouth dropped open and she poked Hermione gently in the ribs. "It's not? It's a Slytherin?" Hermione dropped her head into her hands and nodded, whimpering.

"_Yes. _Now can we stop with the interrogation?"

"It's not Marcus, is it?"

"Oh, Ginny, give me more credit than that. He's been held back, like, three times!"

"Okay then I'm not even going to ask about Crabbe and Goyle, our resident garbage disposals." Ginny's eyes scanned the Slytherin players, her eyes finally landing on Malfoy's toe-headed figure. "It's Malfoy, isn't it?" Hermione remained silent, her head still buried in her arms. "It _is_!"

"Please don't tell anyone, Ginny. Ron and Harry would be so angry. Remember what Ron said when I dated Viktor? This is even more than just _fraternizing with the enemy._"

"Are you two _dating?" _Hermione held a finger up to her lips, shushing Ginny.

"Promise you won't tell anyone!"

"I won't," Ginny agreed begrudgingly.

"And _no_ we're not dating. We just happen to share an…attraction." Ginny nodded, her attention stolen for a moment by the intensifying game. The points were close--Gryffindor had only a twenty point lead over Slytherin. And then the swooping figure of Malfoy went zooming across the pitch, closely followed by the burgundy-clad Harry, his hand outstretched. Only feet from Malfoy's hand a golden glint was visible, the snitch. Hermione felt her chest tighten. Half of her was urging Malfoy closer to the prize, the other half hopefully watching Harry gain on him. And then Malfoy's hand closed tightly over the winged ball. He climbed height once again, his hand raised proudly, the Slytherins cheering loudly.

_Mal-foy! Mal-foy! Mal-foy! _

Hermione watched as the defeated Gryffindors landed back onto the field. Ginny grabbed her hand, tugging her down the stairs and onto the field.

"Ron!" Ginny jumped into Ron's arms, grinning. "You did _so _good."

"Good job, Harry." Hermione gave him a brisk hug, smiling gently.

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"You too, Ron." Hermione stuck her hand out and a disappointed Ron shook it. Hermione and Ginny began to walk off the field, when they passed the celebratory group of Slytherin players. She caught eyes with Draco and smiled. He smiled back, his eyes darting downward.

"Nice playing, Malfoy." She nodded at him, waiting for a response. The other teammates had stopped chattering and were now staring from her to Malfoy in disbelief.

"Well, thanks. Not that your opinion matters, _mudblood._" The Slytherin team laughed outrageously. "That girl," he turned to them, laughing. "Honestly, wets her panties for me." Hermione felt tears pricking her eyes as she stood there, dumbfounded.

"You're a real asshole, Malfoy. Wank off!" Ginny spat, tugging a befuddled Hermione along by her arm.


	13. I Make You Nervous

**A/N: Even though things in Half Blood Prince are quite a bit different from this, I'm going to keep writing this the way I intended. I mean, it's not like JK was ever going to put Hermione/Draco together anyway. Sadly. **

**I'm really sorry if this chapter sucks. I got my wisdom teeth out yesterday, I'm miserable, and I'm totally drugged up on vicadin. So, thanks for understanding ;)**

**Special Notes to All My Chapter 12 Reviewers:**

**HeyJude23: I know, Draco can be such an arse. But it wouldn't be very fun if he were nice all the time, would it? **

**PolandRox: Thanks for such a nice review. I'm glad you find my story different--it's not fun to be the same. Are you from Poland/currently living in Poland? **

**Morf21489: Great to have a new reviewer. I am glad you like the way I portray Draco. I have too hard a time making him sweet ;) **

**AMI MIZUNO 1: Aw, don't kill Draco, haha! **

**willow fairy: As always, thanks for reviewing. **

**Yellowrosesinateacup: I promise you, If they don't make up, I will personally force Draco to confess his undying love to her---naked. **

**Rilicious: You're very welcome. The Zabini mistake is a huge one I see, so no worries. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Antanaqui: You are kind of evil :P But I don't mind, haha. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Dragongirl81: Thanks so much for your review!**

**MrsBMadden: I don't think you have to worry. Thanks for the review!**

Draco watched as her face flickered with fury, her eyes darting toward her mashed potato filled plate. Hermione Granger was sandwiched between Ron and Ginny Weasley at the Gryffindor table, the latter shooting him looks of utter disdain. It had been a week since the winning Quidditch match, seven days of pure torture. Though his house was making him out to be some sort of hero, Granger refused to talk to him point blank. Since he wasn't required to do tutoring anymore, he couldn't even coerce her into conversation. It was miserable. He was, obviously, surprised at the turn of events. He, who _hated_ mudbloods, spending all his time mooning over one? He watched, entranced, as she stood, pulling her gray shrug tightly around her shoulders. Her eyes flickered over to his for a millisecond and she bit her lip. He managed to hold her gaze for a few short seconds before she turned her head and sauntered out the Great Hall. He stood, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, and followed her, desperate, for some reason, to rectify the situation.

"Granger!" He called to her retreating back. She stopped for a second, unmoving, and then spun around, her eyes alit with anger.

"What do _you _want?" Draco was surprised by her forward stance--she seemed different somehow, stronger.

"What's your problem?" He leaned against the stone wall, digging into his pockets.

"What's _my _problem? _My _problem? Last time I checked, I was a filthy _mudblood _who, how do I say this?" She rubbed her chin icily for a second, then continued. "Oh, that's it. _Wets my panties for you._" She pressed her hands against her hips and frowned, venomous.

"Look, I'm sorry."

"As surprised as I am that you just uttered those words, sorry isn't going to cut it, Malfoy."

"You don't have to be so goddamn picky, Granger."

"Don't even start. Being picky would be ignoring you point-blank simply because you're Draco Malfoy. I'm just choosing not to associate with assholes."

"I'm _sorry_, I said it already. I was a prick, you're right. It's my nature." Draco regained his posture and closed in on her, frowning.

"Why do you even care if I'm angry, anyway?"

"To be honest," Draco pressed a hand to her shoulder, smirking. "You're the only person in this school with a big enough brain to impress my permanently numbed brain. You're one of the few things that isn't completely dull."

"Really?" Hermione stared at him, disbelievingly. He nodded and began walking. She followed him, cautiously, her hands tightly at her sides.

"My father is having an _acceptance _ball on New Year's Eve. I'm going."

"I'll go too."

"You can't."

"I want to."

"It's too dangerous."

"I can take care of myself, Malfoy." She smiled up at him. He noticed for the first time the dimples that highlighted her cheeks.

"Can I show you something?" She nodded and he held out a hand. Nervously, she took it, his cool fingers electricity against her warm skin.

Hermione sat down next to Draco, her thigh dangerously close to his. The pair were sitting in the Astronomy Tower, admiring the snow falling outside. Christmas was coming close and snow had been reluctant to come at first. But in the last two weeks it had started to dump.

"It's nice up here." Hermione shivered. The tower, completely built in stone and void of a fireplace, left little room to be warm. Draco turned away from her for a second and made quite a commotion, turning back around with two bottles of Fire Whisky in hand.

"Here. It'll warm you up."

"I don't drink."

"Now you do." Draco took a long drink from his and swallowed.

"Where'd you get this anyway?" Draco scooted back a few feet to reveal a loose stone in the floor.

"I've got to have my stash, don't I?" He whispered, his eyes glinting maliciously. Hermione laughed softly and took a sip, sputtering.

"This is disgusting! I can't believe I'm drinking this. Scratch that. I'm can't believe I'm here. With you."

"Why?"

"Because you're _you. _And I don't hate it." Draco took another swig of his whisky and smiled.

"Good to know." He brought an arm around her shivering shoulder and tugged in her. She stiffened, then relaxed into his grip. "Calm down." His breath came out smoky in the cool atmosphere.

"I am calm." He kissed her forehead tentatively and she squeaked a bit.

"You're not." He kissed her cheek and her hand tightened it's grip on the her bottle, knuckles stark white.

"Am too."

"Stop lying." He kissed a line down her jawbone, his lips soft against the supple skin.

"Honest." He kissed her chastely on the lips and she held her breath.

"I make you nervous." He pulled away, grinning from ear to ear.

"You do." He pressed his palm to her cheek, feeling gentler than he'd ever expected from himself. "I make you nervous, as well." She accused, narrowing her eyes.

"Don't kid yourself." He laughed and arched an eyebrow. She set her bottle down with a clank and placed her hand on the hem of his shirt. Slowly, teasingly, she slid it upwards, over his stomach, across his chest, higher. Her thumb grazed his lip and she moved back down, resting finally across his heart. It was beating a mile a minute. Draco was aware of this and it angered him. He didn't let _anyone _see him vulnerable.

"I do make you nervous. Your heart." He shrugged. She smiled and he forgot that she was Hermione Granger. That he was Draco Malfoy. That, they, by all means, were utterly wrong for each other. He forgot that she was bossy and irritating and that he was too good for her. He kissed her, his hands grappling to grab handfuls of hair from the back of her hand, pushing his full weight upon her. She didn't pull away. Or squeal. Or make any notion to suggest she was anything but calm. The kiss was warm--a contradiction in the freezing room. He pushed his weight, her body leaning back into the stone floor. Never moving his lips from hers, he slid his fingers to the hem of her tee shirt, pushing it up just a few inches to reveal the smooth skin of her belly. The further he pushed it up, the more nervous he felt, his hand warm on her smooth skin. His fingertips explored--roaming the plane of her belly, rounded just by the bellybutton, the rise of her breasts, the jut of her collarbone. He removed his hand, reluctantly, as he felt the kiss coming to a close, pulled away, and rolled over.

Neither spoke for several minutes. He, with his mussed hair and racing heartbeat, she with her pushed-up shirt and reddened cheeks, lay in silence.

"Ron asked me to the Yule Ball." She sputtered out suddenly, her voice melting the icy calm they'd carefully constructed.

"What?" He said a little too forcefully. She laughed.

"I said no."

"Good. I don't like others touching what's mine."

"Who said I was yours?"

"Me." He kissed her cheek and ran a hand across her belly. "And I'm right."

"That you are."

A/N Thanks for reading. Short chapter, I know.


	14. Correspondances

**A/N: Don't own Harry Potter, damn you. **

**Special Notes to Chapter 13 Reviewers: **

**Brit77: Thanks for such a sweet review! **

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…

Hermione watched the snow hit the windshield haphazardly, the wipers smoothing them out only seconds later. She was snuggled up in the front seat of her mother's minivan, her knees tugged to her chest. Her mother had picked her up from King's Cross about a half-four before. They'd shared a hot chocolate at the train station and then Hermione and Mrs. Granger had started the drive home. Hermione hadn't told her mother about anything concerning Draco. She wasn't up to explaining why she was suddenly pseudo-dating the prat she'd complained about every summer vacation since first year. Hermione had chosen to skip the Yule Ball and return home for Christmas to save the trouble of either skipping out entirely or going with Draco.

"So, honey," Mrs. Granger started, clearing her throat, "Dad and I are so happy to have you at home for Christmas. We've invited the Taylor's over for Christmas Eve dinner." Hermione nodded. The Taylor's lived next to the Granger's. They were nice--a family of five, including the triplets, Jenny, Sarah, and Brian, a year younger than her.

"That should be fun." She couldn't stop thinking about the last time she'd seen Draco. He'd been so…gentle up in the Astronomy tower. The next morning she'd packed up and left without seeing Draco. She'd hoped to see him on the Hogwarts Express, assuming he was going home for the holiday, but she'd been so wrapped up controlling a rowdy group of first year boys, she hadn't had the chance.

"How are your friends, Harry and Ron?" Mrs. Granger asked quietly, seeming to contemplate her words greatly. She was one of those ladies who didn't speak much, but when she did, it meant something.

"They're good. Harry was made Quidditch captain. And Ron's still playing."

"Oh, that's nice." Hermione switched the radio on and soothing oldies filled the car. She glanced up into the rearview mirror, wiped at the smudge of black from her mascara, and leaned her head against the cool glass. She liked to be in cars. She'd gotten her license the summer before, but it was pretty useless. She took the tubes when she went around, anyway. However, she liked to be a passenger. She liked to feel safe, surrounded by fiberglass and a shiny black exterior as she hurtled at 65 mph.

Before long, they pulled into the long, stretching driveway of Huntington Circle, a short stretch of large, colonial-looking houses. The Granger home was of an ample size, beige with maroon trim. A neighbor boy was building a snowman in his yard, and the Granger's beagle, Sally, was frolicking in the snow-covered grass. Hermione clambered out of the car and dashed toward the panting dog, grinning.

"Sally!" The dog bounded up to her, pink tongue hanging out gleefully, and leaped into her arms. From the carrier in the backseat of the car, Hermione could hear the distinct hissing of Crookshanks. He'd never warmed up to Sally. Hermione pet Sally's silky ears for a few seconds, then realized how cold it was outside. She was clad in nothing more than jeans and a red cable knit sweater. She dashed back to the car, grabbed her trunks, and scurried inside the house.

The interior of the Granger home was much like their family, warm and welcoming. Dark, hardwood floors covered by bright, soft rugs and family pictures adorned each room. Hermione set her things at the foot of the staircase leading to the second floor and moved into the kitchen.

"I made cookies, your favorite," Mrs. Granger walked in, grinning, and pointed to the countertop. A fresh batch of sugar cookies sat in piles.

"Ooh.." Hermione made a beeline for the cookies, grabbing one and pressing it against her tongue. It was just as she was enjoying the remnants of her treat that a tapping sound at the window drew a frightened screech from Mrs. Granger. An owl was sitting at the windowsill, pecking it's beak against the glass.

"Oh," Mrs. Granger placed a hand over her chest, red-faced, "I will never get used to owls at the window. I always think a bird has knocked itself out on the glass." Hermione chuckled and opened the window. The shivering owl swooped in, landing on the tiled island. Hermione approached the owl. She didn't recognize it. But it didn't look like a school owl--it was far too groomed and sleek. She untied the black silk ribbon holding a bulky brown package to it's leg and handed a piece of her cookie to the owl. It greedily gulped it down. Slowly, Hermione tore into the crumpled paper. "What is it, honey?"

"I'm not sure…" Hermione pulled out two object. The first was a slightly crumpled red rose, the other, a letter sealed in green. "I'll be right back, mum." Hermione carried the two things close to her chest and went into the bathroom to be private. She sat on the toilet and tore open the letter. In dark, scrawling print, Draco had written her a _letter. _

_Hermione, _

_I'm at home for the holidays. Fuck me. Come to Tynan's acceptance ball. I'd say please ,but I'm not one to beg. You know that. If you'll come, write back using my owl. _

_Draco _

Hermione set the parchment on her lap, bewildered. She didn't have any parchment with her, so she drew an extra quill from her pocket and scrawled a reply beneath Draco's letter.

_Draco _

_Thanks for the rose. It's a little crushed, but nice all the same. I'll go to the ball. _

_Hermione_

She folded the letter up and walked out of the bathroom. Draco's owl was sitting patiently on the counter. She retied the parchment to it's leg and watched as the owl took flight out of the window. She needed to go to that ball--Draco would be in severe danger if she didn't.

"Honey?" Mrs. Granger re-entered the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"Who was it?"

"A new friend from school. Can I go to a holiday party on New Year's Eve?"

"I don't see why not. Dad and I are going out anyway. You probably wouldn't like it. Just a bunch of old fogies sipping wine." Hermione chuckled.

"Thanks, mum. I'm going to go take a nap before dad gets home." Hermione nodded at her mother and retreated from the kitchen, looking forward to some alone time in her queen-sized bed.

…

Draco sank back into the plushy couch in the sitting room. His father was standing above him, sleek hair slicked back and eyes narrowed in on his son.

"You'll attend with manners, Draco. I don't want any of this wishy-washy bullshit you've been feeding me all year."

"Yes, _father._"

"Don't yes, _father_ me, son. You'd do well to gain some respect around me." Draco groaned. His father had always been an asshole, but with his mum out of the picture, he'd become unbearable. "Go to your room and get ready for supper." Draco nodded, reluctant to take orders. However, having his life on the line, he bet it was a good idea to listen, if only a bit spiteful.

He stomped angrily through the halls of the manor, finally coming upon his room. Decorated in black and red, his room was the only sanctuary he'd had as a child. He collapsed onto his silky black comforter, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. Just as he was calming down, a faint knocking came at his door. It wasn't his father, he could tell. Lucius Malfoy barges. He doesn't knock gently.

"Come in." The door opened just a crack and then shut as a tiny house elf teetered in.

"Mail for you, Master Malfoy." The elf stuck out a hand accompanied by long, bony fingers, a letter set atop it. Draco took it.

"Thank you, Lolly."

"My pleasure." The house elf bowed, so low that her long nose touched the rug . Draco opened the letter. It was Hermione's response. He smiled. She would be at the ball. He pulled out some fresh parchment from the desk near his bed and scrawled a reply.

_Meet me at Crossing's Restaurant near King's Cross on the 31st and 4pm. See you then. _

_me. _

He wrote a couple more sentences, folded the letter, sealed it, and handed it to Lolly. "Have this sent to Miss Hermione Granger at once." She nodded, taking the letter, and scuttled out of the room without so much as a word.

….

Hermione awoke in her room without so much as a sound. Her room was dark, the sunlight that had been lighting it from the window had long faded. She walked up to her door, flicked the light switch, and then walked to her vanity mirror. She fixed her hair--the curls had bunched up around the crown as she napped--and put on some chap stick and then head downstairs.

"Hermione!" Mr. Granger boomed as she entered the living room.

"Dad!" Hermione jumped into her father's arm, smiling ear to ear.

"I got home about an hour ago, but your mum said you were passed out. How did you sleep?"

"Good--but I'm glad I woke up. I've missed you." She hugged him once again.

"So tell me," Mr. Granger began, leading Hermione into the dining room. "What have you been up to at that school of yours? Studying hard, I presume?"

"Of course, I've got NEWTS coming up." Mr. Granger tittered.

"I do love those names."

"They're acronyms, dad."

"I know. I just like them." Hermione laughed, comically rolling her eyes and sat down at the table. Mrs. Granger starting serving up the dinner of ham and stuffing. It was just at this inopportune moment that an owl swooped into the dining room, frightening Sally, and landed in Hermione's plate. She sighed.

"How did he get in?"

"I left the kitchen window open, sorry dear." Mrs. Granger apologized. Hermione shrugged and opened her letter.

_Meet me at Crossing's Restaurant near King's Cross on the 31st and 4pm. See you then. _

_me. _

_p.s The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they're still alive. - Orlando A. Battista _

Hermione smiled, gently folded the parchment and pressed it into her pocket. She could feel it's warmth burn into her skin beyond the fabric.

"A good letter, darling?" Mr. Granger, smiled and watched the owl fly away.

"Very good."


	15. Broken Hands

**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. **

**Special Notes to Chapter 14 Reviewers: **

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Hermione shivered, tugging her black pea coat tightly around her frame. It was 3:45 on New Year's Eve, and she was leaning against the brick outside of Crossing's Restaurant, an uptown eatery famous for it's seafood. She hadn't been sure how to dress for the Malfoy party, so she'd ended up wearing a slightly demure black dress. It was a stretchy material, three-quarter length in the sleeve, v-necked, and ended just below the knees. She wore simple, black heels, and a long, cascading ponytail. She glared down at the watch around her dainty wrist and frowned. Why did she have to be so damn early? She moved over to a bench near the front door and plopped down, crossing her legs.

"Granger." She felt his hot breath on her ear before she saw him. She tossed her head to the left, her eyes narrowed, and came face to face with Malfoy. He was standing directly behind her, wearing a leather jacket and black slacks.

"Malfoy." She stood and walked around the bench. Even in her heels, the top of her head barely reached his jacket collar.

"Did you have a happy Christmas?" He raised his eyebrows and smirked down at her, running a hand through his hair.

"I did. Mum and dad went a bit crazy this year."

I didn't. Dad doesn't want to spend his hard earned galleons on me when I'm going to be dead soon enough." He winked playfully and Hermione brought a hand to her mouth.

"Don't talk like that."

"I'll talk however I like, thank you." Draco rolled his eyes and took Hermione by the elbow. "Come on." He led her around the corner, where his broom was propped up.

"Oh no, not again!" She exclaimed. "How come every time I have to be on one of these, I'm in a dress?"

"Because the gods love me." Draco winked at her. Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"You're disgusting, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do. It's not my fault you like it."

"I…I…_don't."_ Hermione sputtered, mounting the broom behind Draco.

"Don't even try that one on me, Granger." He yanked her hands forward and around his waist, firmly clutching them in place with his right hand, holding the broom with his left. He glanced around the deserted ally for muggles and then let the broom gently ascend into the air. Hermione didn't feel quite as nervous this time…her heart was still palpitating like crazy, mind you, but she wasn't feeling short of air. Draco finally leveled the broom just above the clouds to mask their visibility and set the broom at a steady speed.

"You know that rose you gave me," Hermione begin, her mouth pressed up to Malfoy's ear. "It was crushed."

"Don't complain," Draco laughed. "It's not like you've ever gotten one before."

"I have!" Hermione stammered. "Viktor brought me a lily before the Yule Ball. _And _I got orchids when I visited him that summer!"

"_That _oaf?" Draco jeered. "He hardly counts."

"As opposed to?"

"Someone as cavalier and dashing as myself, of course."

"You are aware that cavalier means _inconsiderate, _are you not?" Draco nodded.

"Crystal." Hermione sighed, resting her head on Draco's shoulder.

"You are quite possibly the most complicated person I have ever met."

"Not compared to you, Granger."

"What are you talking about?" Draco swallowed.

"You're hot one minute, cold the next. You're indecisive. I find you incredibly frustrating."

"Well thanks." Hermione beamed with fake saccharine.

"Anytime."

………..

"Ah, home again." Draco's voice sounded relieved, but Hermione could tell that is masked a much deeper emotion. He had landed them by the stables of the plantation, propping his broom up against the wall.

"So what's the plan? I can't very much go in there looking like this."

"Actually," Draco began, "You won't be at the party at all."

"_What?" _

"My father said no dates. He'll kill you."

"Then what purpose do I have?"

"Your job is to get into the library and get that information. I'm going to make an appearance to satisfy my father. And then…" He pulled a small vial of putrid looking liquid from his pocket.

"Polyjuice Potion? But who?"

"Augustus Harkford. A very close alliance of my father's. I got some hair of his from my father's study when at Halloween. He keeps…remnants…of his friends, in case he every needs to impersonate them."

"That's sick," Hermione wrinkled her nose, "How do you know he won't be here?"

"Because I finally put those Weasel twins to good use and picked up a couple of those Nosebleed Nougats. Sent to him in a lovely gold wrapping."

"Ugh."

"He's a glutton, he deserves it."

"Right. I don't get your way of thinking, Malfoy."

"Ok. Get to the library and get those books. I'm going to go make nice with my father, then I'll take the potion, and get some information from him. Meet me in the third stable in two-hours." Hermione nodded.

"All right. How will I get in?"

"Go around back. There's a door that's always unlocked. It leads right into the kitchen. If you take the staircase to the left, follow that hallways to the next staircase and then find the second door in that hallway, it's the library." Hermione nodded again. Draco leaned in and gave her a swift kiss to the cheek. She felt the heat in her cheeks rising as she watched him stalk up to the manor. She turned and dashed around back.

….

Hermione creaked open the door. House elves scattered about the kitchen, eyeing her nervously. She stood, dumbfounded, staring them done. And then one particularly small one toddled up to her and beckoned for her. She knelt down and the elf leaned up to her ear.

"You are Miss Granger?" Hermione nodded.

"How did you…?"

"Master Malfoy told Lolly you would be arriving." She pointed a long, thin finger to a door and nodded. Hermione smiled and mouthed 'thank you' before dashing up the staircase.

As her feet moved up the stairs, she didn't hear anything except the creaking of the old wood. She conquered the first staircase easily, moved down the hallway, and found the second set of stairs. Yet again, she got up them without seeing some much as a house-elf. Finding the door, she slowly creaked it open and stepped in. Immediately, her eyes found the fake book painting and unlocked it. She pulled out all four books and stuffed them into the black bag Draco had given her. Sighing deeply, she turned to go. As she spun around, her body smacked roughly into the cool, hard-bodied figure of Lucius Malfoy.

"Well, well…" He clicked his tongue, shaking head. "What do we have here?" Hermione sucked in a breath of air, trying to find something to say--anything.

"Nothing." She shuffled her feet, trying to move over, but Mr. Malfoy had his hands tightly gripped around her shoulders.

"It doesn't look like nothing." He removed one hand from her shoulder and painfully squeezed her right hand with all his might. She squealed, the popping and crackling of the bones making her sick to her stomach. She released her grip on the bag and it toppled over, spilling out it's contents. His eyes scanned the spilled books, his lips set in a tight frown. "So, the little mudblood's doing a little detective work, is she?" Hermione didn't speak. "Is she?" Lucius made a move for her second hand.

"N-no!" She sputtered out, her heart pounding.

"Don't lie to me, girl," he hissed, squeezing her left hand until tears pricked in her eyes, "And look at me when you speak." She let her eyes meet his, darting with fear.

"I'm not lying. Just curious." The words slid off her tongue easier than she'd expected, with a cool confidence she longed for.

"I said," he grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head backwards, "Don't lie to me." Lucius released her ponytail and gripped her by the wrist. "Does my son have something to do with this?" Hermione shook her head vigorously.

"No. No. Not at all. I'm here of my own volition." Lucius leered down at her, eyes squinted. "I promise. I don't even speak with your son. Except when he calls me mudblood." Lucius's spirits seemed to prick a bit as a slightly prideful smile crossed his face.

"Good boy. Now," a sickening smile appeared on his face. "Give me your wand."

"No." Lucius raised his wand.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Hermione's wand flew from her coat pocket and into Lucius's outstretched palm. Hermione whimpered as he grappled for her hand and tugged her body forcefully, the broken fingers unable to move. She refused to move, willing her feet to stay planted, and as he tugged, she crashed to her knees. Skidding along on the wood floor, she could feel her skin burning, and it was all she could do not to cry out.

"Father!" Hermione looked up, where Draco was standing in the doorway, a look of horror etched on his face.

"Well, hello Draco. Look what I've got here." Lucius tugged at Hermione's hand and a tear streamed down her cheek.

"What are you doing?" Draco was frozen to the ground, looking nervously from Hermione to his father.

"I found the little bitch snooping in my private collection--thought I'd teach the mudblood a lesson." He yanked at her, and she scooted forward on her knees. She felt the skin begin to burn hotly and she tried to ignore the sensation..

"Honestly father, just let her go. If you hurt her, the Ministry's going to have something to say about it." Lucius narrowed his eyes and swallowed.

"I knew you were in on this boy!"

"Actually-" Draco began to say, but Hermione cut him off, squealing.

"He didn't have anything to do with this. I wanted to get you in trouble!"

"Grang-"

"I'm honest. Even if your son had wanted to help me--I wouldn't let him. He's an asshole."

"Is the bint lying, Draco?" Draco looked at Hermione, who was mouthing 'please' over and over again, her face wrought with fear.

"No. I had nothing to do with it." He lied, his voice monotone and his eyes full of fear. He watched as Hermione's face settled a bit, Lucius picked her up and tossing her body over her shoulder. She kicked him and punched him, yelling as he carried her past Draco.

"Put me down!" Lucius stopped in his track, raised his wand and pointed it behind himself at Hermione's head.

"_Stupefy!" _Hermione's body went limp in his arms, her head knocking against his shoulder blade. Draco watched in horror as Lucius stomped from the library, knocking Draco out of his way and onto the ground as he went.

…..

Hermione awoke with a start, her body stiff. She was curled up in the corner of a very dark room. She couldn't see much, only a bit of light streaming from underneath the door. It was carpeted in a dark gray shade and the walls were painted darkly as well. It was completely bare, save for the heavy metal shackle that was holding her left ankle to the wall. She made a move to grab at it, but as soon as she did, she regretted it.

Her broken hands were both swollen and red, so badly wounded that she couldn't move them. She immediately regretted her rash motion, tears pooling in her eyes. Just as the pounding in her hands was subsiding, the door to her room swung open, Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway.

"I see you're awake, mudblood." He slammed the door behind himself, his hands shoved into his pockets. Hermione felt herself timid once again, and didn't respond. "Answer me when I speak to you."

"Yes. I am." Hermione's voice sounded foreign as she spoke it. She could hardly believe it came from her lips. Lucius moved towards her and slapped her harshly across the face.

"Don't speak to me with spite, girl."

"_Sorry." _

"I _said, _Don't _fucking _speak to me with spite, mudblood!" Lucius raised his wand and held it toward her, the tip only inches from her forehead. And with a cold, unfeelingvoice he shouted out the words she was dreading most---"_Crucio!" _

TBC.

Review if you liked or didn't like. Thanks.


	16. Protecting Me

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm REALLY sorry this has taken so long. The end of summer was a crazy one for me. I had work and I got a new kitten, so she's been taking all my attention! I also just started school and I've been busy. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take this long. Enjoy! **

"I _said, _Don't _fucking _speak to me with spite, mudblood!" Lucius raised his wand and held it toward her, the tip only inches from her forehead. And with a cold, unfeeling voice he shouted out the words she was dreading most---"_Crucio!"_

At first, Hermione thought the spell didn't work. Her body seemed to take on an overall calm, a tingling spreading from her chest to her fingertips. Then the tingles began to stab at her body like a million tiny swords. Her muscles clenched, her body writhing in pain. She was in sweltering heat, debilitating cold, utter confusion as pain surged throughout her figure. Her silence was broken by her chilling screams throughout the room. She couldn't make out what she was saying--but it sounded like gibberish broken by the occasional explicative. And then--after what seemed an eternity--the pain subsided. Her body slumped into a pathetic heap on the ground, tears streaming down her face.

"That'll teach you to talk to your betters like _that_, mudblood," Lucius cackled, giving her a swift kick to the stomach. Hermione whimpered, blood spurting from her mouth, all from the tiny cuts she'd created by biting her lips so hard. Lucius kneeled down next to her figure and stroked her head gently. "Does it hurt?" He asked, his voice suddenly smooth and quiet. She nodded her head, tears continuing to make a path down her cheeks. "Good." He yanked her head backwards by the hair and laughed. The last thing Hermione felt before the world went dark was a painful blow to the head.

Draco stood in the hallway, his hands pressed firmly against his ears. Her screeches. They had gnawed into his heart, ripping it straight from his ribcage. He leaned back against the wall, banging his head roughly against it. What was he going to do? In fact, he knew exactly what he had to do. It was doing it that would be the problem. He waited in the hallway, holding his breath, until he heard his father retreat from the holding cell. He dashed as quietly as possible to the cell. He held his wand to the door.

"_Alohomora." _He whispered. The lock clicked open and he pushed open the door, eager to see Hermione. What he saw shocked him. Hermione was crumpled up against the wall, her ankle chained to the wall. Her forehead was sporting a bloody wound, her hands were swollen and red, and she was unconscious. He crept over to her and gently pulled her limp form into his arms, supporting her head with his arms.

"Granger?" He stroked her matted hair. She didn't move. "Granger?" He leaned down near her ear, listening for a breath. Like music, a short, raspy breath issued from her lips. Gently shaking her form, he whispered her name once again. Slowly, cautiously, she blinked open her eyes.

"Draco?" Her voice was dry and afraid, her words cracking.

"I'm here." He smiled faintly, brushing stray hairs from her forehead.

"Won't your father hurt you if you're here?"

"Don't worry about that. You can't be here."

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not. He'll kill you."

"I know." Hermione chewed on her lower lip nervously.

"Just--" Draco hesitated for a second, thinking. "Just stay here, okay? I'll be back for you. I promise." Hermione nodded.

"Promise?"

"On my life." Draco swooped down, gave her a quick kiss to the forehead and ran from the room, careful to lock it behind him. Hermione pulled her knees to her chest, tears welling in her eyes. She was terrified.

………

Draco burst into the room nearly fifteen minutes later, his broom and a large bag in hand. Very quietly, he knelt next to her and used his wand to unlock her shackle. She tried to stand, but the swelling in her muscles from the curse made it almost impossible to without crying out in pain. Draco scooped her up into his arms, carrying the broom and bag under one arm, and snuck them from the room.

"You don't need to do this," Hermione croaked, her eyes barely focused.

"Yes, I do." Hermione shook her head viciously.

"Your father will know you are in on it. He'll kill you."

"He's already going to, Granger." Draco pulled her body closer to his as they rounded a corner and reached a window. Draco attempted to unlock it, but the window was stuck. "Shit. I'm gonna have to set you down." He placed her on the floor and used his elbow to shatter the window. Glass shot out all around the room. He scooped her up once again and positioned the broom between his legs. "Can you hold the bag, love?" Hermione nodded, oblivious to his term of endearment towards her. She gripped the bag as Draco situated himself. Just as the broom was beginning to hover, the stomping of footsteps interrupted their escape. Lucius Malfoy had come crashing down the hallway.

"I _knew _you were in on it, you ungrateful little bastard." His lips curled angrily as he drew his wand from his pocket. "_Stupefy!" _Draco pushed the nose of the broom out of the window and they swooped downward, just dodging the spell. They hurtled down at a ninety degree angle, Hermione about to scream. As they were three feet above the ground, Draco pulled the broom upwards and the shot up towards the sky, away from the manor.

"Fuck," Draco felt himself breathe. "That was close."

"_Where _are we gonna go, Draco?"

"Somewhere safe."

"And that would be?"

"I don't know, exactly."

"Wonderful."

……

Draco flew for what felt like days. In reality, it was only about two hours, but the stress of the day had worn him down. Hermione had fallen asleep about an hour into the trip and hadn't woken, despite the bitter snow that was freezing Draco's fingertips to his broomstick. He had to land or he was going to feel the wrath of the storm. He cast his eyes downward, desperate for shelter, but he could only see snow and dark storm clouds. He bit his lip, frowning. He'd have to fly lower, but risk being seen by a muggle. He brought the broom below the clouds and scanned the ground. It seemed they were above a small muggle town. Draco checked for muggles, and not seeing any, began his descent.

Hermione awoke as they landed with a soft 'thump' in a snowy field. "Where are we?" She whispered, shivering.

"I'm not sure. But there's got to be a place to stay around here, right?"

"Perhaps a motel? I've got a few pounds with me."

"A motel?"

"It's a place you can stay a couple nights for money." Hermione sighed, waving her hand in front of her face.

"Can you stand?" Hermione nodded and clambered to her feet, steadying herself.

"I'll be okay. Look--" Hermione pointed to a warm light cascading from the town. "That must be the town center. I'll bet there's a place to stay around there." Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and tugged him behind her.

"My father will find us here, Hermione."

"I know. We'll just stay the night." They searched the town for several minutes. They came across several Bed and Breakfasts, all of which displayed "No Vacancies" signs. Finally--at the outskirts of the small town, they found a decrepit looking house, bearing a sign that read: _Johnson Bed & Breakfast. Vacancies. _Hermione squealed.

"Yes! We can stay here!" They walked up onto the porch and rang the doorbell. A few minutes later, an elderly woman opened up the door.

"Yes?" She looked very annoyed at being disturbed at such an early hour.

"We're sorry to disturb you so late, M'am, but we could really use a place to stay." Hermione's breath was evident in the cold.

"Of course…of course," the woman nodded and beckoned them inside. "I have one room."

"Oh, thank goodness. We're freezing." Hermione hovered near a fire that was roaring in the entry hall.

"I'm not surprised. It's bitter out there." Draco nodded, lowering his eyes.

"How much is it for a night, m'am?" Hermione nervously fumbled with her jacket.

"How much do you have?" Hermione searched her pockets, pulling out every last note and handed it all to the women. She counted the money and nodded slowly.

"You can stay as long as you need."

"But it isn't nearly enough--" Hermione protested. The woman pressed a finger to Hermione's quivering lips.

"Shush. It's more than enough."

"Thank you. Thank you. Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Well--I'd love a hand in the kitchen for mealtimes. Do you cook?"

"Yes, a bit. I'd love to help." Hermione nodded, grinning. The woman grabbed a key from behind the counter and handed it to her.

"Here's a key to your room. It's the second floor--third bedroom. And young man…why don't you come with me while the young lady gets situated?" Draco nodded and Hermione went off to find their room.

"Is your lady friend all right?" The woman asked, and pointed to her own hand.

"She'll be okay. We've have a rough day." She opened up a closet and pulled out a white and red medical kit, handing it to Draco.

"Make sure to bandage those hands. And clean that cut on her forehead or it'll be a nasty infection. And you…" she inspected him. "You'd better gradually warm your hands. They look frostbitten." Draco nodded.

"Thank you so much. You're not bad for a mug--" He cut himself off, smiling weakly. "You're amazing. Thank you." The woman nodded.

"I never introduced myself," she placed a hand over her heart and chuckled. "Forgive me, I'm exhausted. I'm Pat Johnson." Pat stuck out her hand and Draco took it thankfully.

"Draco. Well, I'd better go see how she's doing." He motioned his head up the stairs and Pat nodded understandingly. With that, Draco took off up the stairs to find the room.

When he found the room, he knocked on the door urgently. Hermione creaked it open slowly and he slipped inside.

"I have some stuff to clean you up." Hermione nodded nervously, sitting down onto the queen bed. Draco pulled out an alcohol wipe from the kit and tore it opened. He tossed the wrapper onto the ground and gently dabbed the wet cloth onto Hermione's forehead. She winced, sucking in a tense breath. "I'm sorry." He whispered. He wiped the pad over her wound several times, until he found it clean and then crumpled it up and tossed it into the waste basket near the bed. "Can I see your hands?" Hermione nodded, sticking out her hands in front of her, like a zombie.

"Be careful, please."

"I will." Draco used two ace bandages to wrap her hands, being careful not to hurt her more than required. As soon as he was done, he leaned over to press a gentle kiss to the top of each hand.

"Thank you." Her voice sounded tired and meek. Draco noticed that her dress was torn and bloodied--and looking awfully uncomfortable.

"Let's get you out of that dress--it's soaking."

"Right. Pervert." Hermione smiled for the first time in hours.

"You can wear my shirt," he conceded, unbuttoning his black collared shirt. He shook it off his shoulders and tossed it to her. She spun around and took off her coat and slipped out of her dress. She kicked her heels to the ground and unsnapped her black bra. She put the shirt on over her underwear and button it up and then turned around.

"Thanks--this is better." She admitted. He noticed her cheeks flush up and she dove under the covers. Draco smiled and slipped out of his pants. "What are you doing!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Uh--getting ready for bed?"

"Put your pants on!"

"Come on," Draco rolled his eyes and slipped into the bed next to her. "They say nudity helps with body heat." He winked and Hermione sighed.

"It's amazing how convincing you can be." Draco snuggled in next to her, his bare legs hitting the backs of her thighs. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his face into her back, breathing in deeply.

"This is all so strange," he mumbled, gently stroking her belly.

"It is." Hermione twisted her form, coming face to face with him, her smile perking up a bit.

"I like it." Hermione raised her eyebrows and bit her lip tentatively.

"I _love _it." Draco felt his breath catch in his chest. An unfamiliar feeling took over him--like wearing a snow jacket in the heat of June.

"I love _you." _He whispered, his cheeks flushing a bit. Hermione seemed shocked by his confession. For a minute, she didn't say anything.

"I love you too." She replied. He smiled. She smiled. And they kissed.


	17. Thinking About Tomorrow

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry that I've lacking in the updates. School has been a bit crazy--unlike summer I can't just sit around and write all day. My goal is to be finished by Christmas. Hope y'all forgive me! **

**Thanks to all reviewers for the last chapter! I'd thank you all personally, but I'm just trying to squeeze in the time to write! **

**Draco awoke with a start. He hadn't been sleeping easily the past few months, and the stress of last night didn't help his situation. He sat up, leaning against the headboard, and brushed a strand of white-blonde hair from his sweaty forehead. Sunlight was streaming in through the blinds, making patterns on the carpet. He glanced over at Hermione's curled body. Her hands looked remarkably better, though still quite swollen. She was breathing slow and steady, like a newborn finally lulled into sleep. Careful not to wake her, he slipped out of bed pulled on his undershirt and pants. Downstairs, he found Pam cooking up a storm in the kitchen. **

"Good morning." She smiled widely.

"Good morning." He nodded at her, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"How's the lady?"

"Eh--she's all right, I suppose. She's just, well, without clothing. You could probably tell how badly she was roughed up last night. If I could just find a store…" Draco wasn't quite sure how he would go about _purchasing _these clothes, seeing as he had no muggle money and didn't even know how to use it.

"Oh, don't be foolish," Pam smiled, wiping her batter-covered palms on the hem of her apron. "The girls next door are about her size. I'm sure they'll have some things. I'll be right back." Pam opened up her closet, rifled threw it for a second, and pulled out a winter coat. She waved curtly at Draco and left the house. Draco looked about the kitchen for a minute. He was amazed by the lull of the muggle kitchen. Everything seemed so _slow_. He grabbed a piece of bread, holding it in his hand for a second. Then he saw a silver, rectangular object sitting on the counter. Pam had been fiddling with it while they spoke! Draco, grabbed by a sudden curiosity, tried to replicate what Pam had been doing. He stuck the bread into the slot on top of the contraption, then pulled the lever down. He waited, staring at the object. _Where _was his bread? Becoming impatient, he stuck his fingers into the slot, grabbing for his bread. He winced. It was _hot_. He elbowed the contraption. Stupid muggles.

Just then, Pam reentered the kitchen from the back door, carrying an armful of clothing. She grinned, cheeks pink from the cold.

"I didn't know what to grab, so I just took what they gave me. There are a few things for you in there as well." She dumped the pile onto the tile.

"Thank you." Draco stooped to the ground and began going through the pile. He picked out a white tee shirt, a red zip-up, jeans, some socks, and a pair of beat up tennis shoes for Hermione. For himself, he found a black sweatshirt. Gathering his choices up into his arms, he set off for the room. br br br br 

Hermione was awake when Draco entered the room. He set the pile on the bed. "Have some clothes."

"Where'd you get these?" Hermione held the jeans up in front of herself.

"Pam got them from her neighbors. Muggles aren't so bad, I guess." He shrugged.

"Did _you_ just say that 'Muggles aren't so bad'?" Hermione's jaw dropped.

"So what if I did?"

"Looks like you've made progress, Malfoy." He rolled his eyes.

"I'm a Malfoy. I don't _make progress._" He answered scathingly, making air quotes.

"I happen to think you do."

"So, where do you think we should go?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione stood up and began pulling on her clothes.

"I mean, we're not staying here. Are you stupid?"

"No." Hermione narrowed her eyes as she zipped up the red sweater.

"I think you should go back to school."

"_What_? How can you even suggest that?"

"You'll get yourself hurt."

"You're insufferable! I've been here from the beginning."

"Yeah, and you got yourself hurt."

"Well, I'm _sorry _that I'm not immune to the Cruciatus curse."

"Don't do that. I'll take you back to the school tonight."

"No, you won't. I'm coming."

"Fine. But if you get yourself killed--it's your own damn fault." Hermione flashed Malfoy a toothy grin and stuck out her hand.

"Deal."

"Deal." br br br 

Hermione and Draco left the inn several hours later, thanking Pam profusely. The kindness she'd showed them in their time with her had touched them, even Draco. They traveled for several hours, finally coming upon a severely dilapidated motel.

"I thought we were going back to the school?" Hermione questioned as they swooped down to the ground.

"The storm slowed me down more than I'd expected. I thought we'd take a break." Hermione nodded. Her fingers were red and stiffen, frozen as she gripped Draco around the waist. They drew closer to the motel, the neon sign flickering. Hermione noticed that there seemed to be several holes in the wood.

"Nice place." She snorted.

"Don't be snotty, Granger. These places have minimal security, I'm guessing."

"Minimal security?"

"Well how else are we going to break in?"

"_Break in?" _

"Yes," Draco took a deep breath, annoyed. "Break in. We don't have any money."

"I know, but, it's…._wrong." _

"I have a sudden urge to call you _Granger."_ Draco hissed through gritted teeth. He tugged Hermione up onto the ramshackle porch. Slowly, he turned the doorknob and they entered the motel. The foyer was small--a broken vending machine sat in the corner and a old man with graying hair sat at a metal desk.

"Sorry kids, motel's closed for the night." The man coughed roughly and took a sip of coffee from a black mug.

"Oh, okay…" Hermione nodded and began to turn away. Draco gripped her forearm. "Where…else…are…we…gonna…stay…?" He whispered quietly. She bit her lower lip gently and spun back toward the man.

"It's just that, sir," she swallowed, "I'm really cold and I could use a place to heat up very quickly." She smiled slyly. The old man grinned, giving way to a view of yellowing teeth.

"Well, I suppose, for the lady…" He beckoned her closer. "I could take you to the furnace for a few minutes." Hermione smiled.

"Oh, thank you! Will you show me to it?" The man stood up, pressed a hand on her lower back and drew her down the hallway. br br 

Draco darted behind the desk, to the wall adorned with hooks. He grabbed a key with a big number '5' etched into it. He shoved the key into his pocket. Then, intrigued, he opened the drawer of the desk. A key was hanging from the lock, as if they interrupted the owner while opening it. Inside the drawer lay several stacks of muggle money. He had no idea what any of it meant, but he assumed it would help. He grabbed two stacks and stuffed them into his pockets as well. Just as he returned to his original location, Hermione and the man returned. Her cheeks were flushed from heat.

"Thank you for your help." Draco smiled and put his arm around Hermione protectively.

"Your welcome. Come see me anytime." He winked at Hermione and she tried her best not to gag. br br br 

Once outside, Hermione grabbed Draco by the hand. "Well? Tell me I didn't just do all that for nothing!" Draco smirked.

"Do all _what?_"

"Ugh. Just stood by the furnace and talked--but believe me…he offered a lot more." She wrinkled her nose and Draco laughed throatily. He drew the key from his pocket and flashed it in front of her eyes. "Well, then. Let's find number five!" They walked along the doors until they found the one with a big, red, five on it. Inside, they found conditions even worse than the entry room. One leg broken, the bed was propped up on one corner by an Encyclopedia and the lights didn't work. Once the door closed it was pitch black. Hermione stumbled over to the bed and sat down.

"It's not too lumpy." Draco locked the door and found his way over to her. He sat down next to her.

"Muggles can be very…trashy." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Not _all _of us," Hermione pressed. "I'm not."

"Sure." Draco joked.

"Stop!" She poked at his ribs playfully.

"What if I don't?" He grabbed her hand and held it tightly in his. Her breath caught in her chest and they remained silent for what seemed seconds.

"What if I kiss you?" Hermione whispered, teasingly.

"Then I'd kiss back." Draco leaned in toward her, his nose almost touching hers. Hermione wavered, hovering her lips near his. Then she pressed down, her cool lips pressing firmly against his. He dropped his grip on her hand and pressed his palm to her cheek, kissing her back with fervor. This kiss was different than any they'd shared before--it reeked of understanding. Their lips fit together flawlessly, their movements were in synch as nature itself. It was a little bit tender, a little bit harsh, a little bit sweet, and little bit scary. Hermione drew back, sucking in a breath, and wiped her mouth.

"Why'd you stop?" She looked up at Draco--his eyes were dark and cloudy. She kissed his cheek gently and she felt him smile against her lips. It was all coming to her so fast--the first time she'd ever met him and the hatred has flared up. The time she'd hit him with such rage. The time she'd felt sorry for him. The time she'd…loved him. It was then she noticed that her trembling fingers were twisting the ends of his hair. Draco's hand was now clutched against her thigh. She watched it travel up--painfully slow--to the hem of her sweater. His fingers climbed up the front, finding their grip on the zipper tag, and pulled down. br 

The sides of the fabric hung loosely against her sides now. Draco was watching her intently, his eyes fixed on the curvature of her collar bone. She slid her arms from the sweater and dropped the red form to the cheap carpet. Draco wrapped both arms around her waist, his fingers dancing on her tailbone, and kissed her neck. She breathed out deeply, the tension building within her chest released. His hands retraced their track, gripped the hem of the white tee shirt and pulled up. Over her smooth stomach, her chest, her head, her hair. Floating gently onto the carpet to join her zip-up. Hermione's eyes focused on the barely-visible pile for a few seconds. She turned back to Draco and pressed her palms to his shoulders--and she was surprised to find bare skin.

"Tricky." She whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, the skin of their bare stomachs touching--hers warm and his cool. Slowly, tenderly, almost nervously, Draco undressed her. Off came the shoes and the socks, her bra dropped to the floor, her jeans were pulled from her smooth legs, her underwear taken off almost unbearably slow. As soon as she was bare, he was as well, done with much more haste. And so they slid under the covers, their bodies uncomfortably aware of the chilly drafts in the room. But with each press, each tender motion, each kiss, they warmed. They brought the world to a slow-motion movement. The world seemed to eclipse over their bodies as they absorbed one another. And for just a few moments they were the only people in the world.

**A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed! Please review! **


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